TREACHEROUS  GROUND 


JOHAN  BOJER 


THIS   BOOK  BBLJONGS 


THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


BLASCO  IBANEZ 

author  of  "Tht  Four  Hontmtn  of  the  Apocalypst" 

says  : 

•'Johan  Bojer  is  a  Maupassant  of  the  North,  an  impassioned,  rapid  thinker, 
with    Latin   clarity  ....  Such  a  fiery,  passionate    way   of  telling   the   story!" 


Johan  Bojer 


TREACHEROUS   GROUND 


TREACHEROUS 
GROUND 


BY 
JOHAN  BOJER 

AUTHOR  OF  "  THE   GREAT  HUNGER,"   "  THE   FACE   OF  THE   WORLD, 
"  THE   POWER  OF  A   LIE,"   ETC. 


TRANSLATED   FROM  THE   NORWEGIAN   BY 

JESSIE   MUIR 


NEW  YORK 

MOFFAT,  YARD  AND  COMPANY 
1920 


COPYRIGHT,   I Q  20 
BY  MOFFAT,   YARD  &  COMPANY 


ft 


BOOK  I 


1062198 


Chapter  I 


KRISTIANIA,  as  usual,  had  been  unfortunate  in 
its  17th-of-May  weather.1  But  in  spite  of  the 
wind  and  the  showers  of  hail  that  every  now 
and  then  whirled  over  the  house-tops,  the 
streets  were  full  of  merry  people,  and  high 
and  low  flags  flapped  in  the  wind,  even  on 
the  roofs  of  the  trams  that  moved  cautiously 
along  with  ceaseless  ringing  of  bells.  Later 
in  the  afternoon  there  was  the  demonstration, 
which  ended  in  a  square,  round  a  platform 
with  speakers,  where  the  demonstrators  waved 
their  hats  and  shouted  hurrah.  The  streets 
were  thronged,  and  resounded  with  laughter, 
cries  of  all  kinds,  and  sounds  of  merriment, 
so  that  the  birds  of  passage  flying  northwards 
far  above  would  think  that  down  at  the  head 
of  the  fjord  lay  a  town  that  sang. 

While  this  was  going  on,  a  solitary  man  was 
standing  in  an  entry  just  opposite  the  female 
prison,  apparently  taking  no  interest  in  all 
that  was  going  on.  The  collar  of  his  grey 

xThe  17th  of  May  is  the  Norwegian  national  festival. 


8  Treacherous  Ground 

ulster  was  turned  up  about  his  ears,  and  his 
felt  hat  drawn  down  over  his  eyes,  as  though 
he  were  trying  to  escape  notice.  People 
passing  in  and  out  of  the  entry  thought  he 
must  be  ill  or  drunk;  but  he,  lost  in  thought, 
stood  staring  up  at  the  dreary  prison,  as  if  he 
expected  to  see  a  face  that  he  knew  at  one 
of  the  barred  windows. 

He  had  stood  thus  for  a  long  time,  when 
suddenly  he  seemed  to  come  to  a  determina- 
tion. He  walked  across  the  street  to  the  door 
of  the  prison,  and  raised  his  hand  as  if  to  ring 
the  bell;  but  suddenly  his  hand  dropped 
to  his  side,  and  he  retreated  a  few  steps, 
passed  his  hand  across  his  forehead,  and 
moved  away  aimlessly,  keeping  close  to  the 
wall,  as  if  he  were  running  away. 

An  hour  later  he  was  standing  ringing  at 
the  door  on  the  first  floor  of  a  house  down  by 
the  fortress. 

"Is  the  pastor  at  home  1 " 

"Yes;  please  come  in!" 

But,  although  the  maid  had  opened  the 
door  wide,  it  was  a  moment  or  so  before  the 
stranger  could  make  up  his  mind  to  enter; 
and  even  when  he  had  done  so,  and  had  hung 
up  his  ulster  and  hat  in  the  hall,  he  seemed 
inclined  to  put  them  on  again  and  go. 


Treacherous  Ground 


Meanwhile  the  popular  priest  was  walking 
slowly  up  and  down  the  dining-room  floor, 
flourishing  a  piece  of  paper  that  he  held  in 
his  hand.  He  was  in  evening  dress,  and  was 
going  out  to  dinner,  where  he  had  promised 
to  make  a  speech.  Even  a  zealous  pastor, 
after  having  preached  in  church,  visited  the 
poor  and  sick,  stood  by  a  death-bed,  and  else- 
where listened  to  all  kinds  of  complaints  and 
confessions,  may  feel  an  uncontrollable  desire 
to  refresh  himself  with  something  brighter; 
and  therefore  to-day  the  priest  had  deter- 
mined to  make  a  lively  speech.  His  steps 
creaked  cheerfully  up  and  down,  and  gradu- 
ally he  seemed  to  see  distinctly  the  guests,  the 
table  and  the  flowers,  and  to  feel  the  cham- 
pagne glass  in  his  hand.  "And  we  priests, " 
he  heard  himself  say — "well,  we  might  be 
gallants  too,  might  we  not,  ladies'?  "  and  he 
could  see  the  faces  round  the  table  begin  to 
brighten.  That  was  a  good  thing  to  say. 
The  creaking  steps  were  suddenly  silent, 
while  he  made  a  note  of  it  on  the  paper  he 
held,  and  involuntarily  his  grey-bearded  face 
put  on  a  smile  such  as  he  intended  it  should 
wear  during  the  speech. 

"What?"  he  said,  turning  with  a  jerk 
when  the  maid  appeared,  looking  as  if  she 


10  Treacherous  Ground 

wanted  something.  "Does  somebody  else 
want  to  speak  to  me?  Who  is  it?  Oh! 
But  I  suppose  you  can  tell  me  whether  it's 
the  Emperor  of  Russia  or  an  assassin!" 
He  was  really  cross  at  being  disturbed  just 
now.  He  looked  at  his  paper,  but  felt  that 
he  could  not  get  on  with  his  speech  until  he 
had  seen  the  stranger:  so  with  a  sigh  he  put 
the  piece  of  paper  in  his  pocket,  and  passed 
through  the  drawing-room  to  his  study. 

When  the  stranger  seated  there  heard  the 
creaking  footsteps  approaching,  he  looked 
about  him  as  if  he  would  have  liked  to  fly. 
"What  am  I  doing!"  he  thought.  "At  the 
priest's — I  !  Am  I  really  going  out  of  my 
mind?" 

The  next  moment  the  door  opened,  and  the 
priest's  white  shirt-front  appeared.  An  order 
hung  against  his  black  coat.  He  stopped  for 
an  instant,  and  looked  over  his  spectacles  at 
the  stranger  ;  but,  as  he  did  not  know  him, 
he  went  a  step  or  two  nearer,  put  his  hands 
behind  him,  and  threw  back  his  head. 

"Good-evening,"  he  said  at  last.  "What 

can  I Ah!"  and  he  smiled  a  strange 

smile.  1 1  No,  really — is  it  you  ? ' ' 

Without  giving  his  hand  to  the  stranger,  he 
went  and  seated  himself  in  the  arm-chair  be- 


Treacherous  Ground  11 

side  his  writing-table,  leaned  back,  and  with 
a  wave  of  his  hand  bid  his  visitor  be  seated. 
His  face  clearly  showed  how  astonished  he 
was. 

"Oh,  so  you  know  me  again!"  said  the 
young  man  at  last,  passing  his  hand  in  an 
embarrassed  way  across  and  across  his  fore- 
head. 

"Yes;  aren't  you  Herr  Erik  Evje?  Yes, 
of  course.  You  must  excuse  my  not  recog- 
nising you  at  once." 

"It's  more  than  a  year  since  we  met  at  the 
Students'  Club." 

"Yes;  I  remember." 

"I  offended  you  then,  Herr  Pastor." 

"Not  me,  but  all  of  my  cloth,"  interrupted 
the  priest,  with  an  indulgent  smile.  ''If  I  re- 
member rightly,  you  blamed  us  priests  for 
pretty  well  all  the  misery  to  be  found  in  the 
world,  ha  ha!" 

"Yes;  I'm  sorry  to  say  I've  talked  a  lot  of 
nonsense  in  my  time,"  said  the  young  man  in 
a  subdued  tone.  "But  now  I  come  to  you, 
Herr  Pastor,  just  because — because  I've 
written  and  said  so  much  against  you." 

The  priest  looked  attentively  at  the  other 
man,  who  was  still  standing  and  looking  quite 
helpless.  This  was  indeed  an  unexpected  visit. 


12  Treacherous  Ground 

This  daring  writer  in  the  Social  Democrat, 
this  maker  of  inflammatory  speeches  at  all 
strikes  and  labour  demonstrations,  this  priest- 
hater  and  atheist,  suddenly  standing  here  and 
looking  so  humble.  The  priest  involuntarily 
bent  forward  to  look  at  him  more  closely.  Now 
he  goes  at  last  and  sits  down  on  the  other  side 
of  the  writing-table.  Now  he  coughs.  And 
when  any  one  is  so  pale,  and  keeps  wiping  his 
forehead  to  remove  perspiration  that  is  not 
there  at  all,  and  looks  so  timid — hm,  hm!  If 
he  had  come  to  humble  himself,  it  would  make 
a  sensation. 

"You're  surprised  at  my  coming  down 
upon  you  like  this,  Herr  Pastor,  but  all  the 
merry  people  in  the  streets  were  making  such 
a  noise.  I'm  out  of  it  all;  and  I  happened  to 
pass  here,  and  so  I  rang  the  bell." 

"  Aren't  you  chairman  of  a  workmen's  club, 
HerrEvje?" 

The  man  he  addressed  started.  "No,  no, 
thank  goodness  that's  over!  Latterly  I've 
been  wandering  about  homeless." 

"Homeless?" 

"Yes — oh,  you're  looking  at  my  clothes. 
No,  not  in  that  way.  Unfortunately  I  still  live 
comfortably  upon  the  money  that  father 
scraped  together — in  his  way." 


13 


" Wasn't  your  father  a  factory  owner  in 
the  north?" 

The  young  man  smiled  a  melancholy  smile. 

1  'Oh,  his  unvarnished  title  was  distiller  and 
forest-destroyer.  I  feel  to-day  as  if  I  must 
tell  the  truth,  even  about  my  father.  He 
turned  the  peasants'  corn  and  potatoes  into 
spirits,  and  then,  when  they  were  drunk,  he 
bought  their  farms  from  them  in  order  to 
plunder  the  forest.  He  has  made  whole  dis- 
tricts poor,  even  in  firewood !  and  the  well-to- 
do  people  he  has  brought  to  beggary  are  almost 
too  numerous  to  be  counted.  But  he  became 
rich,  and  gained  orders  and  honour ;  and  when 
he  died,  how  the  priest  did  praise  him  in  his 
funeral  address!  But  I — well,  it  all  went 
down  the  wrong  way  with  me,  and  then  I  be- 
came a  socialist. ' ' 

"He's  just  what  he  used  to  be!"  thought 
the  priest,  and  he  pressed  his  lips  together  as 
he  made  a  movement  as  if  to  rise.  "Well, 

Herr    Evje!"    he    said    aloud,    "what    may 
j » 

Erik  Evje  sat  thoughtfully  running  his 
fingers  through  his  beard.  "Well,  it  was  this, 
Herr  Pastor,"  he  said  in  a  thoughtful  tone. 
"It  was " 

The  priest  waited  impatiently  for  the  con- 


14  Treacherous  Ground 

tinuation.  He  could  hear  his  wife  moving 
about  in  the  drawing-room :  it  was  really  time 
they  started  for  the  dinner.  And  before  he 
was  aware  of  it,  his  thoughts  were  in  the 
middle  of  the  speech  he  had  just  left,  and  once 
more  he  felt  the  champagne  glass  in  his  hand, 
and  saw  the  table  and  the  guests. 

"It  was  this,"  the  voice  on  the  other  side 
of  the  table  at  last  went  on:  "Is  there  really 
a  God?" 

The  priest  started  at  the  word  God,  rose 
abruptly,  and  took  a  turn  up  and  down  the 
room  to  collect  his  thoughts ;  for  at  that  very 
moment  he  had  been  smiling  in  his  thoughts 
and  saying:  "And  we  priests,  we  might  be 
gallants  too,  might  we  not,  ladies?"  Now  he 
began  to  walk  slowly  up  and  down  with  closed 
eyes,  as  if  trying  to  put  aside  this  frivolous 
speech  to  catch  sight  of  God. 

"Tell  me!"  he  said  at  last,  stopping  in 
front  of  the  other  man.  "Will  my  answer 
have  any  real  significance  for  you?" 

The  other  smiled  and  shook  his  head. 
"Well,  no,  to  tell  the  truth;  but  still — if  you 
could  only  get  me  to  believe  in  something  or 
other  again.  Blessed  is  he  that  believes,  for 
he  can  sin." 


Treacherous  Ground  15 

"What?"  exclaimed  the  priest,  staring  at 
him  through  his  spectacles. 

"And  blessed  is  the  rich  man,  for  he  may 
run  into  debt.  Blessed  is  he  who  has  many 
friends,  for  what  does  it  matter  if  he  makes 
enemies.  But  he  who  does  not  believe,  and 
yet  has  sinned !  Faith,  you  see,  is  a  mountain 
to  stand  upon,  from  which  our  sins  look  like 
trifles  down  there  in  the  valley.  But  woe  be- 
tide him  who  slips  down !  He  becomes  so  small 
himself  that  the  sins  get  beyond  his  control. 
That's  why  we  human  beings  need  some  sort 
of  God."  " 

He  glanced  at  the  priest,  who  was  standing 
before  him  with  his  hands  under  his  coat-tails. 

"But,"  he  went  on,  smiling,  "now  I've  got 
to  my  real  business,  Herr  Pastor.  What's 
the  meaning  of  conscience?  Can  one  really 
depend  upon  its  being  a  reliable  measurer  of 
good  and  evil  ?  Isn't  it  rather  a  disease ?  Be- 
cause, do  you  see,  if  conscience  is  a  divinity  in 
man,  it's  a  cowardly  divinity  at  any  rate.  It 
only  attacks  us  when  it  sees  we  are  defence- 
less. If  some  day  you  lose  everything,  and  are 
left  lying  by  the  roadside  like  any  animal,  you 
may  depend  upon  it  conscience  will  dig  her 
claws  into  you.  She  circles  above  us,  like 
vultures  above  an  army,  waiting  for  a  horse  to 


16  Treacherous  Ground 

be  unable  to  go  on  any  longer.  Then  they 
come !  Conscience  is  like  that.  That  is  not  a 
chivalrous  God,  Herr  Pastor." 

At  that  moment  the  door  into  the  drawing- 
room  opened  a  crack,  and  a  voice  whispered : 
"I'm  ready." 

"I'm  coming,"  answered  the  priest,  and  he 
took  a  step  or  two  towards  the  drawing-room, 
but  only  to  return.  "Well,  well,  Herr  Evje," 
he  said  in  farewell,  "since  we  differ  so  much 
about  the  starting-point — namely,  God,  we 
two  cannot  have  much  to  say  to  one  another." 

Erik  Evje  smiled.  He  was  far  too  much 
occupied  with  what  he  had  upon  his  mind  to 
notice  the  priest's  desire  for  him  to  go. 

"One  sins  only  against  one's  self  and  one's 
fellow-creatures,  Herr  Pastor;  but  as  long  as 
one  believes  in  something  great — vaguely — 
one  can  crush  any  number  of  human  destinies, 
and  conscience  only  sends  the  account  in  to 
this  vague  something.  But  it's  another  matter 
altogether  when  one's  stock  of  ideals  is  ex- 
hausted. That's  why  I've  come  to  you,  Herr 
Pastor.  You're  a  man  whose  conscience  is  as 
a  healthy,  happy  man's  should  be;  and  now 
you  must  tell  me  whether  I'm  really  guilty." 

"Guilty?"  repeated  the  priest  mechani- 
cally. He  was  going  up  and  down  with  small 


Treacherous  Ground  17 

steps,  while  his  thoughts  were  at  the  dinner- 
table.  "And  we  priests — might  be  gallants 
too." 

Erik  Evje  looked  at  him  earnestly.  "Yes; 
you  know,  of  course,  what  I'm  accused  of?" 

The  priest  passed  his  hand  across  his  fore- 
head, and  tried  to  wake  to  the  other's  world. 

"Accused  of?  No,  I  really  don't!"  As 
he  said  this,  he  happened  to  look  at  his  watch. 

"Then  you  must  be  the  only  person  who 
doesn't,  Herr  Pastor,  for  the  papers  have 
made  a  good  thing  out  of  it,  I  should  think. 

And  suppose  he  were  right,  both  he  and 

There!"  He  passed  his  hand  across  his  fore- 
head again,  and  sighed  deeply. 

"Of  whom  are  you  speaking?" 

"Of  Mogstad,  of  course,  the  felon,  my 
friend — ha  ha! — who  took  the  work-people 
away  from  me,  and  had  me  kicked  out.  Didn't 
you  read  that  scandalous  story  in  the  papers  ? 
He  got  up  at  a  meeting  at  the  Institute,  and 
pointed  at  me,  and  said  it  was  I  who  had 
sent  him  to  prison.  It  was  I  who  had  made 
him  a  wounded  bird.  And  they  believed  him, 
and  took  his  part.  At  the  time  I  was  certain 
it  was  a  lie,  but  since" — he  passed  his  hand 
across  his  brow,  and  closed  his  eyes — "it's 
dangerous  going  about  quite  alone." 


18  Treacherous  Ground 

The  priest  again  heard  his  wife's  impatient 
footsteps  in  the  drawing-room,  and  became 
more  and  more  desperate.  He  had  never  felt 
another's  confidences  so  exacting.  And,  while 
he  was  making  an  effort  to  keep  his  thoughts 
upon  this  man,  a  recollection  crossed  his  mind. 

"The  fact  of  the  matter  is,"  continued 
Evje,  "that  we  were  fellow-students,  he  and  I. 
He  was  poor,  but  clever " 

"Evje!"  the  priest  broke  in,  stopping  in 
the  middle  of  his  walk,  and  putting  his  hand 
over  his  eyes.  "Two  or  three  years  ago  I  was 
chaplain  at  the  female  prison  here.  Wasn't 

there  a  young  girl  there,  who What  was 

her  name  again?" 

What  followed  was  quite  unexpected.  Evje 
suddenly  rose,  stared  for  a  moment  at  the 
priest,  and  then  turned  to  the  door  and 
hastened  out.  The  priest  was  struck  dumb 
with  amazement.  At  last  he  hurried  out  into 
the  hall  in  time  to  see  the  other  disappearing 
through  the  hall  door,  carrying  his  hat  and 
coat.  "But,  Evje!"  he  cried,  "what's  the 
matter?  What's  the  matter?  Well  I  never!" 
Going  to  the  top  of  the  stairs,  he  called  once 
more:  "Evje!"  But  then  he  heard  the  street 
door  bang. 

"Are  you  ready  at  last?"  said  a  voice  from 


Treacherous  Ground  19 

the  drawing-room.  "You  don't  seem  to  think 
how  late  we  shall  be ! " 

A  little  later,  when  in  the  carriage  on  his 
way  to  the  dinner,  the  priest  took  out  his 
paper  again,  and  tried  to  pick  up  the  threads 
of  his  cheerful  speech.  "And  we  priests 
might  be  gallants  too."  But  suddenly  he 
made  a  grimace,  and  threw  the  paper  out  of 
the  window.  The  other  man  had  really  man- 
aged to  make  him  low-spirited. 

"Was  he  mad?"  he  thought.  "And  what 
is  he  doing  with  himself  this  evening?" 


Chapter  II 

Most  people  get  their  ideals  like  the  wounded 
animal,  which  instinctively  makes  its  way  to 
water.  It  was  thus  that  Erik  Evje  had 
studied  first  theology,  then  medicine,  and  last 
of  all  had  become  a  labour  leader,  just  as  some 
misfortune  in  himself  required  some  special 
alleviation. 

During  the  summer  when  he  came  home 
from  his  first  term  as  a  student,  he  fell  vio- 
lently in  love  with  a  cottager's  daughter,  who 
was  a  servant  in  his  father's  house;  and  when 
his  father  understood  that  it  was  his  intention 
to  marry  the  girl,  there  was  a  great  to-do.  The 
end  of  it  was  that  at  last  Erik  yielded  and 
gave  up  the  girl  although  she  was  enceinte. 
But  when  he  went  to  the  capital  that  autumn 
to  study  law,  he  would  often  lie  all  day  long 
on  his  sofa,  sick  with  memories  of  home.  In 
this  big,  strange  town,  where  he  had  neither 
a  mother  nor  an  intimate  friend  to  whom  he 

20 


Treacherous  Ground  21 

could  pour  out  his  heart,  he  could  see  no  other 
relief  but  in  God.  Finally  he  determined,  and 
obtained  leave,  to  study  for  the  ministry ;  and 
that  he  now  became  so  zealous  in  his  studies, 
so  strong  in  faith  and  so  earnest  in  his  prayers, 
was  due  to  the  fact  that  away  in  the  north 
there  was  a  pale  little  face  that  always  had  to 
be  kept  at  a  distance. 

By  degrees  his  efforts  were  successful,  and 
when,  a  couple  of  years  later,  he  heard  that 
the  girl  had  had  a  child  by  a  married  man,  and 
in  her  despair  had  killed  it,  he  was  strong 
enough  in  his  Christian  zeal  to  think:  "  Was 
she  like  that,  too?  " 

One  bright  day  in  spring,  he  met  under  the 
trees  in  the  Students7  Grove  Inga  Rud,  the 
daughter  of  the  district  doctor  at  home. 
That  evening  his  prayers  were  brighter  than 
usual.  It  was  as  if  the  Supreme  Being  had 
been  dressed  in  a  pink  dress  and  light  straw 
hat.  Soon  his  fellow-students  would  look  after 
him  in  the  street,  and  say:  "Why,  Erik  Evje 
has  actually  had  his  hair  cut !"  "And  been  to 
his  tailor ! ' '  another  would  add.  When,  a  few 
days  later,  he  appeared  at  band-time  in  a  silk 
hat,  a  new  light  coat  and  pale  yellow  gloves, 
people  began  to  put  their  heads  together  and 
whisper:  "Who  is  she?" 


22  Treacherous  Ground 

They  should  only  have  known  what  Erik 
went  through  during  this  time.  The  less  en- 
couragement the  young  woman  gave  him,  the 
more  did  he  cling  to  God's  aid.  At  last  came 
the  evening  when  he  threw  himself  upon  his 
bed  after  receiving  a  distinct  refusal.  "  Thy 
will  be  done!  "  he  groaned  into  the  pillows, 
but  this  time  it  was  a  prayer  through  clenched 
teeth.  A  few  days  after,  he  read  the  announce- 
ment of  her  engagement  with  a  young  officer, 
and  the  paper  dropped  from  his  hands.  He 
had  hoped  until  now.  "Thy  will  be  done  — 
no,  no!"  And  when  in  the  evening  he  folded 
his  hands  as  usual,  he  burst  into  a  peal  of  cold 
laughter.  The  officer  would  be  sure  to  curse 
and  swear,  but  he  got  her.  He  himself  prayed 
and  prayed  and  chastened  himself,  but  only 
had  the  disgrace.  New,  dangerous  thoughts 
began  to  fill  his  mind,  and  heaven  became  so 
exceedingly  empty. 

Very  soon  after  he  was  standing  one  rainy 
summer  day  at  his  father's  funeral,  listening 
to  the  priest's  panegyric  upon  the  deceased; 
but  at  the  moment  Erik  could  see  in  his  mind's 
eye  his  father  turning  the  cottager's  young 
daughter  out  of  the  house.  "Shall  I  become 
a  hypocrite  and  a  fool  like  this  priest?"  he 
asked  himself.  "Is  it  any  wonder  that  di- 


Treacherous  Ground  23 

vinity  students  are  generally  refused  when 
they  propose?" 

At  that  time  science  was  called  the  religion 
of  the  young,  and  when  Erik  came  back  to  the 
capital,  he  kicked  his  theological  text-books 
into  a  dark  attic,  and  took  up  medicine.  This 
caused  the  first  break  with  his  mother,  but 
Erik  went  at  it  energetically,  like  one  who  has 
lost  his  house  and  will  clear  the  ground  for  a 
new  one.  There  was  a  sense  of  freedom  in 
venturing  to  be  young  again,  and  enjoying  the 
gay  student's  life.  He  had  plenty  of  pocket- 
money,  and  he  made  friends  with  clever  young 
men  and  joined  a  small  enthusiastic  party  of 
free-thinkers,  who  swore  by  the  sun  and  a 
clear  brain. 

For  two  bright,  happy  years,  he  himself,  his 
ideas  and  his  work,  seemed  to  be  one  and  the 
same.  When  his  spirits  became  boisterous, 
and  he  diligently  scattered  oaths  about  him, 
it  was  because  of  a  desire  to  kick  the  old 
edition  of  himself,  the  theologian  and  under- 
taker, who  now  seemed  such  a  pitiable  object 
to  him. 

It  was  then  that  the  story  about  Mogstad 
came.  This  young  man  was  Erik's  best  friend, 
clever,  but  morbidly  jealous  of  his  honour, 
perhaps  because  his  mother  was  a  laundress. 


24  Treacherous  Ground 

One  day,  a  short  while  before  they  had  to  go 
up  for  their  first  examination,  he  came  up  to 
Evje's  room,  and  dropped  despondently  into 
a  chair.  "Well?"  asked  Erik.  "This  con- 
founded money!"  groaned  the  other.  "My 
mother  can't  do  any  more,  and  unfortunately 
I  haven't  time  just  now  to  rinse  her  clothes 
for  her.  There's  great  danger  of  my  exami- 
nation coming  to  nothing  this  year  again,  and 
I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  go  into  the  country 
and  turn  tutor ! "  "  How  much  do  you  want  ? ' ' 
asked  Erik.  "Oh,  three  hundred  miserable 
krones."  "Dear  me,  I  ought  to  be  able  to  get 
you  that!"  said  Erik.  "You!"  cried  Mog- 
stad,  springing  up  and  seizing  his  friend  by 
the  collar  and  shaking  him.  "Did  you  say 
that  you-  -Eh?"  "Yes,  but  I  haven't  got 
it  here.  I  suppose  you  can  wait  a  few  days?" 
Could  he  wait  a  few  days !  Yes,  indeed !  And 
singing  and  delighted,  Mogstad  hurried  off. 
Why  did  not  Evje  immediately  procure  the 
money  ?  It  is  true  he  had  not  the  amount  by 
him ;  but  why  did  he  not  write  to  his  mother  ? 
He  was  rather  reluctant  to  do  so,  because  lat- 
terly she  had  complained  of  his  extravagance. 
Then  why  did  he  not  pawn  his  gold  watch  or 
his  piano  ?  No,  he  was  too  much  occupied  with 
his  coming  examination  to  be  quite  able  to  im- 


25 


agine  his  friend's  embarrassment.  Mogstad 
came  again  and  again,  and  Erik  always  said 
that  he  should  have  the  money,  but  at  the  same 
time  he  put  off  doing  anything  to  obtain  it.  At 
last  Mogstad  was  angry,  and  asked  if  he  meant 
to  help  him  or  not.  Erik  was  ashamed,  but 
would  not  explain  matters.  "As  soon  as  I 
get  any,"  he  said,  "you  shall  have  it."  "As 
soon  as  you  get  any,  yes!"  said  Mogstad,  with 
a  scornful  laugh.  "But  I'd  rather  it  were  on 
this  side  of  the  day  of  judgment!"  Erik  now 
grew  angry,  too,  just  because  he  was  ashamed 
of  himself.  "Confound  you,  man;  perhaps 
you  can  get  it  quicker  from  some  one  else!" 
Mogstad  flushed  crimson.  "Oh,  is  that  what 
you  say?  By  Jove,  you're  a  scamp!"  And 
he  sprang  up  and  was  about  to  go,  when  Evje 
cried  to  him  to  wait.  One  word  brought  an- 
other, until  Mogstad  called  Evje  a  coward, 
whereupon  Evje  turned  him  out  of  the  room. 
No  one  could  suspect  less  than  Erik  what 
the  consequences  of  this  would  be.  The  follow- 
ing morning  a  letter  arrived,  which  brought 
him  very  quickly  out  of  bed.  He  turned  the 
paper  this  way  and  that,  and  read  it  once 
more.  He  almost  began  a  dance  upon  the  floor, 
then  stood  still  and  read  the  letter  again  with 
starting  eyes.  Mogstad  wrote  from  prison. 


26  Treacherous  Ground 

When  Erik  had  been  so  long  in  fulfilling  his 
promise,  the  poor  man  had  resorted  to  the  ex- 
pedient of  forging  a  cheque ;  and  when  he  left 
Evje  in  a  rage,  he  had  gone  straight  to  the 
police  and  given  himself  up. 

When  Erik  had  grasped  the  full  extent  of 
this  misfortune,  he  felt  as  if  he  were  guilty  of 
manslaughter.  He  soon  saw  that  his  fellow- 
students  knew  all  about  it,  and  that  they  would 
have  liked  to  thrash  him.  One  day,  too,  he  met 
Mogstad 's  mother.  The  old  washerwoman 
looked  as  if  she  would  like  to  efface  herself, 
but  yet  gave  him  a  look  that  cut  him  to  the 
heart. 

At  last  he  summoned  up  his  courage  and 
went  to  the  prison;  but  Mogstad  refused  to 
see  him.  As  he  walked  home  with  bowed 
head,  he  would  have  liked  to  throw  himself 
into  the  sea.  When  he  tried  to  bury  himself 
in  his  books  and  forget  everything  else,  he  once 
more  found  a  closed  door ;  for  it  was  as  if  these 
studies,  which  he  and  Mogstad  had  worked  at 
together,  now  asked:  "What  have  you  done 
with  him  ?  Can  you  really  go  up  for  this  ex- 
amination while  your  friend  is  being  sentenced 
to  penal  servitude?" 

Erik  Evje  shut  himself  up,  and  could  not 
sleep  at  night.  The  painful  memories  of  the 


Treacherous  Ground  27 

cottager's  daughter  revived  again,  like  a  dis- 
ease that  was  supposed  to  have  been  healed. 
He  brooded  over  the  questions  of  guilt  and  re- 
sponsibility, but  he  fared  like  the  horse  that 
has  got  into  a  bog — the  more  he  struggled  the 
deeper  he  sank;  and,  in  ever-increasing  de- 
spair, he  strained  his  eyes  in  search  of  some 
one  to  help  him  out  again.  There  was  no 
longer  a  God  for  him ;  his  mother  did  not  un- 
derstand him;  his  friends  had  turned  their 
backs  upon  him.  And  as  the  horse  at  last 
utters  a  piercing  shriek,  so  from  Erik  Evje's 
pillow  would  arise,  in  the  silence  of  the  night, 
a  sigh  of  sorrow  and  contrition,  asking:  Is 
there  no  power  in  heaven  or  on  earth  that  can 
comfort  an  unhappy  being? 

One  evening  he  chanced  to  drop  into  a 
labour  meeting,  at  which  a  well-known  so- 
cialist leader  was  to  speak.  When  he  got  home 
that  evening,  he  walked  up  and  down  the  room 
for  hours,  in  a  strange  condition  of  mind.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  speaker  had  said:  "You  are 
innocent.  It  is  poverty."  Evje  felt  it  an 
immense  relief,  but  dared  not  as  yet  believe 
it.  "When  you  come  to  think  of  it,"  he  said 
to  himself,  "why  did  my  father  turn  Olina 
out  of  the  house  ?  Why  was  she  unworthy  to 
love  me  ?  Poverty :  that  is  clear  enough.  But 


28  Treacherous  Ground    ' 

Mogstad — why  was  he  led  to  forge  a  cheque? 
Would  he  have  done  it  if  he  had  been  rich? 
No,  indeed!  Poverty  too!"  The  more  he 
thought  it  over,  the  clearer  it  became,  that 
society  was  really  to  blame  both  for  Olina  and 
Mogstad.  At  last  he  could  breathe  freely.  At 
last  he  felt  a  crushing  burden  removed.  And 
since  it  was  no  longer  his  fault,  his  sympathy 
could  flow  freely.  ' '  Poor  things ! "  he  thought. 
"How  they  must  have  suffered!" 

He  had  to  go  to  several  labour  meetings,  and 
take  part  in  the  discussion;  and,  hurt  as  he 
still  was  by  the  remembrance  of  Mogstad,  his 
words  acquired  warmth  that  made  a  sensa- 
tion. Before  long  he  had  to  lay  aside  his 
medical  text-books  to  read  Karl  Marx  and 
Lasalle.  Instead  of  attending  lectures,  he 
went  to  a  working-men's  association  where  he 
was  to  give  a  lecture;  and  when  his  fellow- 
students  went  up  for  their  examination,  he 
was  sitting  at  home  writing  an  article  for  the 
Social  Democrat.  Every  accusation  he  could 
bring  against  capital  he  felt  as  a  plaster  upon 
a  smarting  wound ;  every  kind  word  he  could 
utter  about  the  poor  became  a  greeting  to  those 
he  feared  he  had  crushed.  He  did  not  even 
notice  himself  that  more  than  once  in  his 
speeches  he  had  worked  up  his  indignation 


Treacherous  Ground  29 

against  capital  by  picturing  to  himself  Olina 
being  turned  out  of  the  house,  and  no  one  could 
notice  in  the  winged  sentences  in  the  Social 
Democrat  that  his  pen  had  been  dipped  in 
Mogstad's  forgery  and  that  they  were  a  de- 
fence of  himself. 

To  his  old  set  of  free-thinkers  he  wrote,  in 
a  farewell  letter:  "What  use  have  people  for 
truth  as  long  as  they  have  no  bread?"  And 
to  his  mother,  who  soon  began  to  threaten: 
"If  I  have  to  choose  between  my  monthly 
allowance  from  you  and  my  conscience,  I 
choose  the  latter."  The  money  continued  to 
come,  however,  but  it  seemed  to  burn  his 
fingers.  He  left  his  pretty  rooms,  and  moved 
into  an  attic,  prepared  his  own  breakfast  and 
supper,  and  gave  the  surplus  towards  provid- 
ing books  for  the  working-men. 

The  patient  becomes  fond  of  the  doctor  who 
/  at  last  makes  him  well,  and  Erik  Evje  grew 
fond  of  his  work,  because  it  had  healed  his 
diseased  conscience.  He  twice  went  volun- 


tarily to  prison,  first  for  libelling  a  factory 
owner,  and  then  for  refusing  to  serve  his  last 
year  of  military  service.  Each  time  he  came 
out  again,  his  eyes  had  acquired  a  new,  pe- 
culiar brightness. 
But  Erik  Evje  also  tasted  the  sweetness  of 


30  Treacherous  Ground 

serving  a  great  idea — as  when  the  small  man 
in  his  attic  feels  his  soul  expanding  to  include 
countries,  towns  and  ages ;  or  when  he  and  the 
ten  thousand  become  one ;  or  when  the  thought 
of  dying  becomes  less  terrifying,  because  the 
other  self,  the  idea,  will  live.  As  a  lecturer  he 
knew  a  happiness  that  was  greater  and  more 
abundant  than  that  which  comes  from  ap- 
plause and  flattery.  It  was  in  converting  his 
secret  pain  into  a  cause  that  others  again 
adopt  as  their  cause;  in  taking  note  of  his 
sorrow  or  joy,  his  repentance  or  hope,  taking 
possession  of  hundreds  and  making  them  one 
with  himself.  It  was  then  that  he  was  happy. 
From  this  time  onwards  he  began  to  say 
"we"  instead  of  "I,"  because  he  always  felt 
himself  one  of  a  large  company.  "This  is 
what  we're  like!"  he  would  say  when  he  was 
displeased  with  himself  for  a  moment;  and 
when  he  went  to  bed,  instead  of  his  evening 
prayer,  it  was  a  comfort  to  surrender  himself 
to  the  night  with  the  thought,  "I  can  never 
again  be  quite  alone." 

He  heard  that  Mogstad,  on  coming  out  of 
prison,  had  emigrated  to  America,  and  once 
more  he  felt  a  relief ;  for  although  he  was  sorry 
for  him,  he  did  not  want  to  see  him  again. 
A  year  had  passed  when  one  evening  Evje  was 


Treacherous  Ground  31 

acting  as  chairman  at  a  working-men's  asso- 
ciation meeting,  and  a  bearded  man  at  the 
other  end  of  the  hall  rose  to  oppose  him.  Evje 
started  at  the  voice,  and  suddenly  their  eyes 
met.  It  was  Mogstad. 

It  was  a  strange  moment  for  Evje.  He 
would  have  liked  to  have  run  away,  or  to  have 
the  other  turned  out.  After  the  meeting,  he 
saw  his  former  friend  standing  in  the  back- 
ground, smiling  uncertainly  at  him,  and  Erik 
felt  his  throat  contract,  but  went  out  without 
speaking  to  him.  At  the  next  meeting  Mog- 
stad was  present  again,  and  this  time  Erik  did 
not  look  at  him  at  all,  for  he  had  a  feeling  as 
if  Mogstad  were  sitting  there  with  a  revolver. 
Mogstad  soon  became  a  zealous  member  of  the 
association,  and  in  all  the  discussions  he  held 
an  opinion  opposed  to  that  of  the  chairman. 
Whenever  their  eyes  met,  it  seemed  to  Evje 
that  Mogstad  smiled  an  evil-omened  smile; 
and  soon  he  felt  as  if  he  were  being  pressed 
closer  and  closer  against  the  wall  in  the  sight 
of  every  one.  At  last  he  could  stand  it  no 
longer,  and  burst  out:  "I  wonder  whether 
that  gentleman  is  the  right  one  to  find  fault 
with  what  others  do ! "  Mogstad,  feeling  many 
eyes  turned  upon  him,  sprang  upon  a  chair, 
and,  addressing  the  room,  said:  "Yes,  dear 


32  Treacherous  Ground 

friends,  it's  true  that  I've  been  a  convict;  but 
that  man  was  the  friend  whose  fault  it  was. 
Don't  believe  him  when  he  talks  beautifully 
about  the  poor !  I  know  him.  He 's  a  scamp ! ' ' 

A  dead  silence  followed,  and  all  eyes  were 
turned  towards  Evje,  sitting,  pale  as  death, 
upon  the  platform.  They  were  accustomed  to 
see  him  hold  his  own,  but  he  was  silent  still. 
He  felt  the  room  going  round.  The  revolver 
he  had  feared  had  at  last  been  pointed  at  him 
and  fired. 

Before  he  quite  knew  what  he  was  doing,  he 
had  risen  and  was  making  his  way  towards 
Mogstad.  Men  stood  upon  benches  and  tables 
in  order  to  see  better.  Mogstad  was  still  stand- 
ing upon  his  chair,  waiting  for  Evje.  He  was 
smiling,  but  his  hands  were  clenched.  In  an- 
other minute  the  two  men  were  shaking  their 
fists  at  one  another.  "It's  a  lie!"  "No,  in- 
deed it  isn't!"  "Say  once  more  that  it  was 
I  who — who  sent  you  to  prison!"  "I  say  it 
again ! "  "  Then  prove  it ! "  Mogstad  laughed 
scornfully.  "No,"  he  said,  "I  can't  prove  it; 
for  that  matter  you  can  send  me  there  again." 

When  at  last  Evje  recollected  himself  and 
returned  to  his  seat,  he  felt  that  his  position 
depended  upon  what  he  now  did.  With  a  vi- 
brating voice  he  proposed  that  Mogstad  should 


Treacherous  Ground  33 

be  expelled  from  the  association;  and  when 
this  proposal  was  rejected  by  a  good  majority, 
he  struck  the  desk  with  his  chairman's  staff, 
and  left  the  place. 

A  great  many  people  rang  at  his  door  the 
following  day,  but  it  was  not  opened,  and  the 
morning  papers  lay  untouched  outside  the 
door.  Where  was  he? 

They  could  not  see  that  a  man  was  sitting 
at  the  writing-table,  supporting  his  chin  on 
his  hands,  and  staring  straight  before  him. 
Every  time  the  bell  rang  he  started,  but  stayed 
where  he  was. 

He  was  worn  out  with  pacing  the  floor  and 
raging  against  the  work-men's  association, 
which  had  betrayed  him,  and  against  Mogstad, 
who,  it  was  evident,  had  not  yet  tortured  him 
enough.  Now  at  last  he  had  become  aware 
that  something  much  worse  had  happened  to 
him  yesterday — namely,  that  this  attack  had 
not  only  come  from  behind,  ,from  his  own 
people,  but  from  within  himself.  And  this  was 
just  what  he  had  felt  was  lying  in  wait  for  him, 
from  the  moment  he  had  seen  Mogstad  again. 

Why  was  he  sitting  here  and  beginning  to 
feel  so  thoroughly  ashamed  ?  He  felt  as  if  he 
had  been  taken  yesterday  in  the  act  of  com- 


34  Treacherous  Ground 

mitting  forgery,  as  if  Mogstad  had  uncovered 
a  secret  wound  of  his,  for  all  to  see. 

He  suddenly  rose  as  if  to  shake  the  whole 
thing  off,  and  threw  himself  upon  his  bed,  but 
soon  started  up  again,  and  put  on  his  overcoat. 
But  at  the  door  he  stopped;  for  wherever 
should  he  go  I  Of  late  years  he  had  had  only 
party  friends,  and  they,  now?  He  took  off 
his  coat  again.  In  the  letter-box  he  found  a 
request  from  his  paper  that  he  would  give  an 
account  of  what  had  happened.  Oh,  indeed! 
So  the  morning  papers  had  made  the  most  of 
yesterday's  scene,  and  now  his  enemies  would 
rejoice.  Well,  he  was  used  to  defending  him- 
self, but  this?  He  passed  his  hand  over  his 
forehead.  To  open  the  old  wound,  to  defend 
himself  against  a  wounded  bird !  He  opened 
the  door,  and,  instead  of  picking  up  the  papers 
and  reading  them,  he  kicked  them  down  the 
stairs,  and  then  shut  himself  in  again,  and  sat 
down  gloomily  with  his  elbows  on  the  table. 

One  hour  passed — two.  " Nonsense!"  he 
cried  suddenly,  rising.  "Let  that  rabble 
choose  the  convict  for  their  leader  if  they  like. 
It'll  be  more  suitable." 

But  when  the  letter  was  sent  in  which  he 
resigned  the  duties  of  chairman,  he  felt  like  a 
man  who  moves  his  furniture  out  into  the 


Treacherous  Ground  35 

street,  without  knowing  where  he  is  going  to 
move  to.  What  now? 

"Why,  the  cause  and  the  ideas  are  the  same 
as  before !"  he  said  to  himself,  to  give  himself 
courage ;  but  he  soon  found  it  was  not  so,  for 
when  he  at  length  pulled  himself  together  to 
write  an  article  again,  he  could  not  get  over 
the  fact  that  now  the  labour  question  for  him 
would  only  be  to  see  Mogstad  again,  to  be  be- 
trayed again,  to  have  a  secret  wound  opened 
again. 

He  sighed,  and  in  a  little  while  got  up  and 
looked  involuntarily  at  his  medical  books, 
standing  covered  with  dust ;  but  soon  he  shook 
his  head.  It  was  too  late  for  that  too.  The 
years  had  been  passing :  it  was  too  late. 

He  sat  on,  staring  straight  before  him ;  then, 
putting  his  hand  to  his  forehead,  he  mur- 
mured: "No,  no;  it  cannot  be  true!" 

When  at  last  it  grew  dark,  he  crept  down 
and  brought  bread  and  butter  enough  for 
several  days.  There  was  something  he  must 
come  to  an  understanding  about  before  he 
went  out  again. 

A  new  day  comes.  He  is  sitting  at  the  table, 
reading,  but  thinking  of  other  things  alto- 
gether. He  has  his  pipe  in  his  mouth,  but 
does  not  notice  that  it  is  out. 


36  Treacherous  Ground 

To  go  away — home?  And  fall  in  with  his 
mother's  wishes  by  taking  over  the  farm  and 
the  works?  Oh  yes!  Become  a  capitalist 
and  employer  of  labour — he!  Continue  his 
father's  work — he!  Swallow  his  delusions,  go 
home  like  the  prodigal  son !  Oh  yes ! 

But  what  then?  Ah,  he  was  going  to  read 
that  book.  So  he  lights  his  pipe  again. 

This  sudden  transition  from  being  busy  to 
sitting  idle  and  out  of  everything!  There 
would  soon  be  an  empty  space  between  him 
and  the  outside  world.  He  began  to  see  a  man 
upon  a  shore,  letting  all  his  valuables  be  rowed 
away.  He  has  no  more  use  for  them.  They 
glide  farther  and  farther  off,  and  the  man 
gazes  after  them  as  after  a  lost  paradise. 

There  came  long  days  when  Erik  Evje  sat 
and  let  everything  go.  Making  up  his  mind 
was  like  looking  into  a  catastrophe  that  he 
would  rather  close  his  eyes  to  as  long  as  pos- 
sible. 

But  now,  when  he  no  longer  had  the  well- 
being  and  the  faults  of  others  to  meddle  with, 
his  thoughts  began  to  revolve  about  himself. 
The  blind  in  front  of  the  beautiful  landscape 
of  ideas  and  people  out  there,  which  had  re- 
cently been  part  of  himself,  had  been  suddenly 
pulled  down,  and  he  discovered  how  shrunken 


Treacherous  Ground  37 

he  was,  how  exceedingly  small  lie  liad  become, 
and  he  involuntarily  sought  for  something  dif- 
ferent and  greater,  in  which  he  could  forget 
himself.  But  what  ? 

Erik  found  it  bad  enough  to  wake  to  a  new 
day  for  which  he  had  no  use ;  but  it  was  still 
worse  to  put  out  the  light  in  the  evening,  and 
enter  upon  a  new  night.  Thoughts  which  in 
the  noise  of  day  he  had  kept  down,  in  the 
silence  of  night  raised  their  heads  again ;  and 
now  he  had  no  defence  against  them. 

He  began  to  wander  hand  in  hand  with  a 
young  girl  one  summer  night  beside  a  blue 
fjord.  What  did  he  promise  then?  Where 
was  she  now  ? 

He  turned  over  and  tried  to  sleep ;  but  in  a 
little  while  he  was  going  through  the  years 
when  he  and  Mogstad  were  good  friends.  And 
there  stands  a  washerwoman,  bent  and  toil- 
worn,  rubbing  her  fingers  to  the  bone  on 
people's  clothes;  and  on  Saturdays  she  takes 
a  heavy  basket  of  clean  clothes,  and  goes  out  to 
collect  her  coppers.  For  she  has  a  son  who  is 
to  be  helped  on.  At  night  she  bends  over  the 
steaming  iron,  and  coughs  a  little,  and  grows 
more  and  more  hollow-cheeked;  for  her  son 
must  have  new  books,  and  he  must  be  decently 
dressed  too.  Then  one  day  she  is  unable  to  do 


38  Treacherous  Ground 

anything  more.  "  Just  you  lie  still  and  rest, 
mother,"  says  the  son.  "I  have  a  friend  who 
has  rich  parents." 

Erik  Evje  starts  up  suddenly  and  rubs  his 
eyes.  " Plague  take  it!  Am  I  not  to  get  any 
sleep  either  now?" 

When  he  has  lain  for  a  little  while,  with  his 
head  buried  in  the  pillow,  and  the  quilt  rising 
and  falling  with  his  breathing,  his  thoughts 
have  cunningly  found  their  way  into  the 
prison. 

When  you  think  of  it,  a  whole  day  must  be 
intolerably  long  when  you  know  you  are  locked 
in  and  some  one  else  has  the  key,  and  that  you 
will  not  get  out  to-morrow,  nor  the  day  after 
to-morrow,  nor  even  in  a  week's  time.  A 
month  must  be  an  eternity ;  and  a  whole  year ! 
Then  think  of  seven  years !  And  that  is  what 
she  was  sentenced  to. 

The  slender  little  creature  must  be  there 
still.  Has  she  seen  blue  sky  in  all  these  years, 
or  a  blade  of  grass?  Has  she  perhaps,  for 
seven  years,  not  known  whether  it  were  winter 
or  spring  ? 

Is  she  one  of  those  prisoners  who  have  to 
clean  feathers,  sitting  day  after  day  inhaling 
that  filth  ?  Her  chest !  Perhaps  she  could  not 
stand  it,  and—  He  suddenly  writhes  in  his 
bed. 


Treacherous  Ground  39 

It  is  a  relief  to  turn  his  thoughts  to  a  meet- 
ing to  protest  against  the  barbarism  of  the 
prisons;  but,  in  the  middle  of  his  indignant 
speech,  Mogstad  suddenly  stands  up  on  a  chair 
and  interrupts  him.  "Do  for  once,"  he  says, 
"hold  your  jaw  about  the  faults  of  society. 
You  know  quite  well  that  it's  you  yourself  who 
sent  her  to  prison!" 

"What?  Upon  my  word,  now  he's  declar- 
ing that  that's  my  fault  too !  Did  I  ask  her  to 
kill  that  child?"  Mogstad  answers: 

"Think  the  matter  over  honestly.  Who  was 
the  first  to  lure  her  on  to  the  downward  path  ? 
Who  led  her  astray?  Who  swore  and 
promised  marriage?  Who  deserted  her  the 
first  time  she  was  with  child  ?  Ask  her  whom 
she  looks  upon  as  her  real  executioner." 

Erik  sits  up  in  bed  to  light  the  candle,  but 
finds  no  matches,  and  has  to  sink  back  on  to 
his  pillows  again.  Whichever  side  he  turns  to, 
he  sees  her  more  and  more  distinctly  in  the 
prison.  Her  beautiful  fair  hair  has  been  cut 
off,  and  her  face  has  become  thin  and  grief- 
worn.  But  she  raises  her  eyes  to  his,  and  says, 
with  a  melancholy  smile:  "All  the  other  pris- 
oners herd  have  visitors,  but  I  know  no  one  in 
town  except  you.  I  knew  you  were  here,  and 
several  times  during  these  years  I  have 


40 


thought  I  heard  your  voice  out  in  the  pas- 
sage." 

1  'He  had  a  good  excuse!"  says  Mogstad. 
"He  has  been  so  occupied  with  improving 
others." 

Erik  turns  over  again,  making  the  bed 
creak.  He  can  draw  the  clothes  up  over  his 
head,  but  he  is  just  as  helpless,  and  all  the 
ravens  of  the  night  can  gather  together  if  they 
like  to  peck  at  his  liver.  And  up  there  in  the 
height  is  nothing  but  cold,  empty  space. 

The  next  evening  Erik  brought  a  bottle 
home  with  him.  A  glass  of  whisky  and  water 
would  make  him  sleep.  A  few  days  later  he 
found  it  best  to  put  the  bottle  on  the  table  by 
his  bed. 

In  the  occasional  glimpses  that  his  former 
fellow-students  had  of  Erik  Evje,  it  was  diffi- 
cult to  recognise  him  in  the  shabby  figure 
which  they  saw  stealing  along.  No  one  could 
make  out  what  he  was  doing;  but  there  was 
no  mistaking  the  fact  that  he  had  begun  to 
drink.  At  last  every  one  knew  that  the  former 
eager  combatant  had  gone  to  the  dogs,  and 
people  were  too  busy  to  occupy  themselves  any 
further  with  the  matter. 

On  rare  occasions  he  would  steal  through 
the  streets,  attracting  as  little  notice  as  pos- 


Treacherous  Ground  41 

sible,  to  the  district  female  prison,  and  when 
he  had  stood  there  for  some  time  gazing  at 
the  gloomy  building,  he  would  go  up  to  the 
door  as  if  to  ring,  but  at  the  last  moment 
lacked  the  courage,  and  would  stagger  along 
the  rows  of  houses  as  if  in  flight. 

It  was  thus  he  had  stood  on  that  17th  of 
May,  and  thence  he  had  gone  to  the  priest  in 
order  to  be  able  for  once  to  speak  out.  And 
he  confessed,  and  felt  the  relief  of  it,  until  the 
priest  happened  to  mention  the  girl  in  prison. 
This  was  touching  a  wound  that  was  far  too 
deep  to  be  displayed;  and  confused  as  Erik 
already  was,  he  involuntarily  fled  down  the 
stairs  and  quickly  away  through  the  streets. 

Late  that  evening  he  was  standing  in  an  out- 
of-the-way  corner  of  the  Students'  Grove, 
watching  the  noisy  crowds  that  streamed  up 
and  down  Carl  Johan's  Street,  the  confusion 
of  faces,  the  flirting  and  screaming,  the  rough 
pleasure,  the  walking  up  and  down.  "  These 
people  imagine  that  they  are  celebrating  a 
general  festival,"  he  thought;  "while  in 
reality  every  single  one  of  them  is  only  think- 
ing about  himself.  That's  what  we're  like." 
But  a  fresh  burst  of  laughter  from  among  the 
crowd  seemed  to  answer:  " Perhaps  that's 
what  you're  like,  but  we're  not." 


42  Treacherous  Ground 

Towards  midnight  he  was  trudging  aim- 
lessly along  the  Ekeberg  Road,  with  his  hands 
buried  in  his  overcoat  pockets.  When  he  found 
himself  in  the  dim  wood  on  the  hill,  he  stopped 
and  looked  round  in  astonishment  at  finding 
himself  there,  and  seated  himself  upon  a  stone 
by  the  wayside.  The  night  had  already  begun 
to  grow  lighter.  Down  in  the  valley  below  lay 
the  noisy  town,  half  hidden  in  a  thin  mist.  Out 
among  the  islands  a  few  pleasure-boats  could 
still  be  seen  upon  the  blue  fjord. 

Evje  bowed  his  head  upon  his  hands. 
"  Why  am  I  sitting  here,  when  every  one  else 
is  down  there?  Why  have  I  dropped  out  of 
everything?  "  he  asked  himself. 

He  thought,  as  he  had  so  often  done  lately, 
of  his  mother.  She  was  a  widow  and  old,  with 
everything  on  her  hands,  while  her  only  son 
fooled  and  loitered  about  here  with  ideas  that 
only  made  him  unhappy. 

In  a  little  while  he  was  fancying  himself  at 
home  at  Evje,  up  there  between  the  fir-clad 
hills  and  the  fjord.  His  mother,  in  spite  of 
everything,  has  been  expecting  him,  and  she 
welcomes  and  makes  him  comfortable.  The 
servants  and  farm  labourers  are  the  same  as 
before,  and  how  healthily  and  reasonably  they 
look  at  everything  in  this  world!  The  old 


Treacherous  Ground  43 

foreman,  who  is  respected  by  the  whole  coun- 
tryside, is  standing  outside  the  stable  door 
with  a  short  pipe  in  his  mouth,  talking  about 
this  affair  with  Mogstad.  "  A  pretty  thing,  " 
he  says,  "  if  every  one  who  couldn't  get  money 
lent  him  were  to  go  and  commit  a  forgery!" 
And  the  old  man  cannot  help  laughing  at  such 
talk.  This  simple,  honest  man  has  also  just  as 
straightforward  an  opinion  about  the  girl  in 
prison.  "You  must  be  crazy!"  he  says.  "It 
would  be  different  if  you  had  been  father  to 
the  child  she  killed ;  but  the  one  she  put  down 
to  you,  you  have  paid,  and  paid  punctually  for, 
like  an  honest  fellow.  If  only  all  fathers  were 
like  you!" 

And  Erik  sat  there  upon  the  stone  and  went 
home  in  imagination  over  and  over  again :  and 
it  was  a  solace  to  him  to  make  all  the  home 
people  seem  alive,  to  hear  distinctly  what  the 
foreman  said. 

"If  I  were  to  go  home,"  he  thought,  "I 
should  not  only  meet  people  who  looked  up  to 
me  as  they  used  to  do,  but  I  could  also  do  some- 
thing for  the  work-people  there.  Has  not  the 
foreman  been  engaged  for  ever  so  many  years, 
and  not  been  able  to  make  enough  to  marry 
upon?  There  is  a  great  deal  of  uncultivated 
land  belonging  to  Evje.  Supposing  I 


44  Treacherous  Ground 

Erik's  gaze  was  fixed  upon  the  golden  night 
sky  far  beyond  the  dark  hills  in  the  west ;  but 
what  he  saw  there  at  this  moment  was  the 
first  dawn  of  a  new  idea,  and  he  felt  like  a 
shipwrecked  man  when  he  at  last  thinks  he 
can  see  a  boat. 

He  was  roused  from  his  reverie  by  the  cold. 
The  town  below  him  had  grown  darker;  and 
with  chattering  teeth  and  cold  feet  he  hastened 
homewards. 

When  he  at  last  crept  into  his  den  again,  and 
was  met  by  all  the  musty  thoughts,  he  found 
that  what  he  had  seen  was  not  a  boat  at  all. 
Home  I  Humble  himself  ?  No,  it  was  too  late. 

When  the  woman  who  cleaned  his  room  for 
him  came  in  the  following  day,  she  found  Evje 
in  bed  with  a  cough  and  high  fever ;  and  when 
she  suggested  fetching  a  doctor,  he  turned  his 
face  to  the  wall  and  murmured,  no.  "What 
in  the  world  should  I  get  well  for?"  he 
thought. 


Chapter  III 


Evje  Farm  is  one  of  the  largest  in  the  district, 
and  stands  upon  green  hills,  with  red  farm 
buildings  running  up  to  the  fir  wood,  a  white 
house  half  hidden  by  great  trees,  and  a  garden 
stretching  down  to  the  fjord.  All  round  there 
seems  to  rise  from  the  hills,  the  wood  and  the 
houses,  a  dull,  ceaseless  roar.  It  is  from  the 
Evje  Fall,  which  drives  the  saw,  planing,  and 
flour  mills  of  the  farm,  just  inside  the  bay. 

In  the  house,  at  one  of  the  windows  stood 
Fru  Asta  Evje,  shading  her  eyes  with  her 
hand  as  she  gazed  down  the  road.  Both  the 
hand  and  the  sharp  but  ruddy  face  were  worn, 
and  the  whole  figure  was  ponderous  and  im- 
posing; but  the  yellow- white  hair  was  gath- 
ered neatly  up  at  the  back  of  her  head  beneath 
the  black  silk  cap,  and  the  linen  collar  round 
her  neck  was  white  and  freshly  ironed.  One 
could  see  that  she  knew  how  to  command,  but 
also  how  to  laugh. 

45 


46  Treacherous  Ground 

What  had  become  of  Lars  Brovold  with  the 
milk-cart  and  the  letters'?  She  had  not  re- 
ceived the  customary  lines  from  Erik  at  the 
beginning  of  the  month,  acknowledging  the 
money  sent.  It  was  true  she  had  of  late  years 
accustomed  herself  to  the  thought  that  this 
son  was  lost  to  her  also ;  but  now,  when  even 
the  sending  of  those  few  business-like  words 
was  omitted,  it  was  too  much  for  her.  What 
could  have  happened  to  him?  Each  day  she 
waited  with  increasing  uneasiness  for  the  next 
post. 

What  could  have  delayed  Lars  Brovold  to- 
day? 

Asta  Evje  had  faithfully  striven,  together 
with  her  husband,  to  work  up  the  farm,  and 
God — as  she  used  to  say — had  added  His*  bless- 
ing. It  was  bad  enough  to  become  a  widow, 
but  last  year  she  had  suffered  a  misfortune 
which  threatened  to  crush  her  altogether.  Her 
eldest  son,  who  was  just  about  to  take  over  the 
farm  and  works  in  his  own  name,  had  sud- 
denly died,  leaving  no  child. 

It  looked  as  if  the  family  at  Evje  were  to 
die  out,  for  Erik,  who  was  now  her  only  child, 
might  almost  be  regarded  as  dead.  After  her 
loss  she  had,  it  is  true,  once  more  put  herself 
into  harness  and  been  one  of  the  first  to  rise 


Treacherous  Ground  47 

and  the  last  to  go  to  rest;  but  now  she  was 
seventy,  and  would  soon  not  be  fit  for  any- 
thing more.  Of  late  she  had  often  been  unable 
to  sleep  at  night  for  thinking  of  what  she 
would  soon  be  forced  to  do — namely,  to  sell, 
to  let  strangers  in  to  the  old  family  house. 

It  was  now,  however,  at  the  non-arrival  of 
Erik's  letter,  that  she  discovered  the  hope  to 
which,  in  spite  of  everything,  she  had  clung  as 
a  last  possibility — namely,  that  some  day  Erik 
would  come  to  his  senses  and  return  home. 

There  at  last  was  Lars  Brovold  with  the 
milk-cart !  She  went  out  into  the  roomy  hall, 
and  taking  the  leather  bag  from  the  fair- 
haired  boy,  who  had  just  come  up  the  steps, 
immediately  began  to  turn  over  the  letters  in 
the  bag.  No,  she  did  not  find  Erik's  well- 
known  handwriting.  But  there  was  a  tele- 
gram !  She  dared  not  open  it  at  once,  for  she 
felt  it  was  from  him ;  and  it  was  not  until  she 
was  in  the  office  that  she  tore  it  open.  She 
could  hear  her  heart  thumping.  Was  he  dead  ? 
No,  it  said — it  said: 

" Coming  home  to-morrow.    ERIK." 

Fru  Evje  dropped  on  to  the  sofa,  and  sat 
there  with  her  hands  in  her  lap.  At  last  she 
looked  upwards,  as  much  as  to  say:  "Has  my 


48  Treacherous  Ground 

prayer  really  been  answered?"  A  little  while 
after  she  rose  with  the  expression  she  wore 
when  she  gave  orders.  The  courtyard  had  not 
been  swept  and  strewn  with  sand  yet  this  year, 
nor  had  the  best  carriage  been  washed  and 
brushed,  and  his  old  room  must  be  got  ready. 
But  as  she  reached  the  door,  she  paused  and 
breathed  heavily  at  the  thought  that  perhaps 
he  was  only  coming  home  to  go  away  again. 

To-morrow !  Fru  Evje  had  to  go  back  to  the 
sofa,  where  she  collapsed.  It  would  all  be 
settled  to-morrow.  The  old  lady  folded  her 
hands  and  suddenly  began  to  sob. 

It  was  near  the  middle  of  June,  and  summer 
had  reached  even  these  northern  regions. 
The  following  day,  the  little  steamer  from  the 
town  steamed  into  a  perfectly  calm  fjord.  The 
mountains  on  both  sides,  standing  like  rows  of 
upturned  boats,  are  covered  with  a  blue  haze. 
Towards  the  open  sea  they  rise  like  gigantic 
whales  standing  guard  against  the  storms,  so 
that  the  land  within  can  lie  in  shelter.  Even 
out  on  the  water,  the  fragrance  of  the  budding 
woods  along  the  shore  is  perceptible ;  and  the 
warmth  is  so  fresh  that  it  is  like  inhaling  a 
mixture  of  sunshine  and  snow. 

A  small  group,  consisting  of  a  gentleman 
and  two  ladies,  was  standing  apart  upon  the 


after-deck  engaged  in  earnest  discussion  car- 
ried on  in  subdued  tones.  It  was  the  Govern- 
ment engineer,  Rein,  his  fair  young  wife,  and 
their  friend,  Froken  Inga  Rud.  They  were  on 
their  way  home  from  the  town. 

"Yes;  but  it  is  he  all  the  same,"  said  Fru 
Rein.  "There!  He's  turning  his  head.  Didn't 
I  say  sot " 

All  three  cast  furtive  glances  towards  the 
stern  of  the  vessel,  where  a  man  was  sitting  in 
a  deep  bamboo  chair,  with  his  back  towards 
them.  In  spite  of  the  warmth,  he  sat  huddled 
up  in  a  thick  ulster.  Now  and  then  he  threw 
crumbs  of  bread  out  to  two  gulls  that  were 
sailing  along  behind  the  vessel. 

"Very  well,  then,  say  it's  he,"  said  Rein, 
giving  way.  "But  why  won't  he  look  at  us? 
Is  it  because  of  you,  Froken  Rud?" 

The  young  lady  blushed,  but  tried  to  laugh. 
It  was  not  her  fault  that  people  knew  about 
Erik  Evje's  unsuccessful  wooing. 

Rein  continued,  as  he  adjusted  his  pince- 
nez:  "They  say  he's  come  down  in  the  world 
lately.  Perhaps  the  prodigal  son's  on  his  way 
home." 

"It's  hard  on  his  mother!"  said  Fru  Rein. 
"Her  sons  have  not  brought  her  much  hap- 
piness." 


50  Treacherous  Ground 

"And  how  dreadful  he  looks!  He's  like  a 
consumptive  Englishman,  who's  determined 
to  come  to  Norway  to  die. ' 7 

Inga  Rud  suddenly  left  the  other  two,  as  if 
she  did  not  wish  to  hear  more ;  and  with  bent 
head  she  began  to  walk  backwards  and  for- 
wards across  the  deck,  now  and  then  stealing 
a  glance  at  her  companions,  as  if  she  feared 
they  might  guess  her  thoughts. 

She  was  really  agitated  at  meeting  Erik 
Evje  again.  It  had  brought  back  memories  of 
a  time  when  she  had  been  much  admired  and 
constantly  surrounded  by  young  men,  and 
when  all  the  world  seemed  to  her  like  a  ball- 
room filled  with  music  and  admiring  eyes. 

Things  were  changed  since  then.  The  lieu- 
tenant she  had  chosen  then,  and  had  been  en- 
gaged to  for  several  years,  had  suddenly 
broken  off  the  engagement  last  summer,  and 
immediately  after  had  married  another  girl 
who  was  rich.  For  some  weeks  after,  her 
parents  had  fears  for  her  reason ;  and  though 
she  had  gradually  regained  her  composure,  she 
was  fully  convinced  that  life,  for  her,  was 
over. 

"Ah,  then!"  she  thought,  stopping  to  look 
at  Erik  Evje.  He  belonged  to  the  brightest 


Treacherous  Ground  51 

years  of  her  life,  and  she  did  not  like  to  hear 
any  one  speak  ill  of  him. 

"But  why  doesn't  he  look  this  way?  Is  he 

angry  with  me,  or 1"  She  did  not  finish  the 

sentence  even  to  herself. 

Erik  Evje  had  discovered  his  acquaintances 
on  board,  but  felt  the  greatest  unwillingness 
to  speak  to  them.  He  was  worn  out  with  ill- 
ness and  emotion,  and  he  had  a  feeling  that 
the  train  and  the  steamer  were  taking  him 
home  without  his  actually  wanting  to  go,  al- 
though at  the  same  time  he  was  too  tired  to 
want  to  do  anything  else.  He  had  sat  gazing 
at  these  two  gulls  until  they  began  uncom- 
fortably to  resemble  Mogstad  and  the  girl  in 
prison.  He  might  fly  from  them,  but  they  kept 
with  him ;  and  his  throwing  food  to  them  was 
for  the  purpose  of  detaining  them  and  gaining 
a  moment's  respite.  But  they  came  again  on 
motionless,  outstretched  wings.  He  had  no 
more  bread,  and  he  closed  his  eyes  and  gave 
himself  up  to  the  thought  that  had  lately  en- 
ticed him  more  and  more  strongly.  If  he  were 
to  give  in  to  his  mother,  and  take  over  the 
farm,  it  would  be  rather  a  different  matter 
when  he  gave  away  land — to  the  old  head  la- 
bourer, for  instance.  It  would  save  something 
of  that  for  which  he  had  lived  hitherto ;  and  as 


52  Treacherous  Grownd 

he  sat  with  closed  eyes,  now  and  then  hearing 
the  cries  of  the  two  birds  coming  nearer,  he 
withdrew  farther  and  farther  into  this  good 
intention,  and  made  it  bigger  and  bigger  in 
order  to  find  in  it  shelter  and  a  defence.  He 
would  give  land  to  others  besides  the  head 
labourer.  It  would  gradually  become  a  colony 
of  labourers  along  the  river,  a  little  world  of 
happy  homes,  which  he  had  created.  Was  this 
to  betray  his  past  ?  Mogstad  might  stand  upon 
his  chair  and  jeer,  but  sensible  people 

"How  do  you  do,  Herr  Evje?"  said  a  voice 
behind  him,  and  he  started  and  turned  round. 
It  was  Inga  Rud. 

Erik  required  a  moment  to  come  to  himself. 
He  rose,  but  felt  as  if  the  ship  were  going 
round.  "How  do  you  do?"  he  stammered  at 
last,  seizing  hold  of  the  back  of  the  chair  to 
keep  himself  up. 

"You  won't  recognise  old  neighbours,"  she 
said  brightly.  A  pause  ensued,  as  each  saw 
that  the  other  had  turned  red,  and  felt  some- 
thing of  a  shock  at  hearing  the  other 's  voice. 
It  was  she  who  at  last  went  on:  "I  suppose 
you're  going  home  for  a  summer  visit?" 

"Yes;  that's  to  say He  passed  his 

hand  across  his  forehead.  Must  he  confess  to 
this  girl  what  a  wretched  state  he  was  in  f  He 


Treacherous  Ground  53 

looked  involuntarily  at  his  fingers,  which  of 
course  were  brown  with  tobacco,  and  thought 
of  his  untidy  hair  and  beard,  and  wished  him- 
self miles  away. 

Little  by  little,  however,  a  conversation  was 
started.  They  stood  leaning  over  the  rail,  and 
perhaps  neither  of  them  quite  knew  what  they 
were  talking  about.  The  steamer  stopped  at 
a  pier  that  ran  out  into  the  water  on  piles,  and 
people  went  ashore  and  others  came  on  board, 
and  then  it  set  off  again  obliquely  across  the 
fjord,  leaving  a  dark  furrow  behind  it  on  the ' 
surface  of  the  water,  to  call  at  a  similar  pier 
on  the  other  side. 

The  conversation  became  easier,  although 
Erik  began  to  feel  a  growing  defiance.  "Of 
course  she  has  come  up  to  me  purely  out  of 
pity ! ' '  he  thought  1 1  She  knows  of  my  failure 
in  town ;  she  knows  that  I  drink  and  that  I  am 
now  drifting  home  like  any  wreck.  Perhaps 
she  is  pleased  that  everything  has  gone  so 
wrong  with  me.  I  suppose  she  thinks  she 
hasn't  worried  me  enough  yet. " 

"How  delighted  your  mother  will  be  to  have 
you  at  home  now,"  she  said,  smiling. 

"Yes,"  he  stammered.  "Mother's  getting 
old  now."  But  he  was  almost  confessing  that 
he  was  going  to  forswear  his  past;  and  for  a 


54  Treacherous  Ground 

moment  lie  gazed  helplessly  over  the  water, 
trying  to  find  some  justification,  something  to 
raise  himself  in  her  eyes,  in  revenge  for  her 
pity. 

The  idea  about  the  workmen's  holdings  that 
had  just  flitted  through  his  mind  was  still 
close  at  hand ;  and  this  woman  incited  him  now 
to  take  it  up  and  use  it. 

"The  fact  is,"  he  went  on,  suddenly  getting 
the  courage  to  meet  her  eyes,  "I  ought  to  have 
gone  home  long  ago.  Up  to  the  present  IVe 
only  written  and  talked  about  what  others 
ought  to  do  in  this  world ;  but  IVe  never  really 
known  whether  I  can  do  anything  myself. " 

"Well,  this  sounds  interesting,"  she  said, 
looking  at  him  intently. 

Erik  Evje  never  forgot  the  moments  that 
followed.  How  brutal  it  seemed  towards  him- 
self to  lay  bare  this  idea,  which  had  hitherto 
only  been  to  him  as  a  remote,  sweet  dream,  and 
which  was  not  nearly  thought  out  and  com- 
plete yet.  It  was  almost  like  holding  up  to  her 
an  unfledged  bird,  which  she  could  kill  merely 
with  an  ironical  smile.  He  began  almost  in  a 
pleading  voice,  as  if  asking  her  to  be  lenient ; 
but  she  came  to  his  aid  with  little  remarks  that 
gave  him  more  and  more  self-confidence,  until 
the  contemplated  holdings  actually  grew  into  a 


Treacherous  Ground  55 

natural  and  important  matter.  Before  long 
he  was  enjoying  the  triumph  of  showing  her 
how  mistaken  she  was,  and  that  she  need  not 
waste  her  pity.  He  had  not  gone  back  on  his 
ideas  yet,  nor  had  he  come  home  a  total  wreck 
either. 

"Why,  it's  a  grand  idea,  Herr  Evje!"  she 
exclaimed  enthusiastically.  1 1 1  wish  you  every 
success." 

Little  by  little  this  feeling  of  bitter  triumph 
changed  into  warm  pleasure  at  having  risen 
in  her  estimation.  Involuntarily  he  looked 
for  the  two  steely-grey  birds,  but  they  were 
far  behind.  How  nice  it  was  of  her  to  come 
and  speak  to  him ;  he  felt  as  if  she  had  lifted 
his  thoughts  out  of  a  mouldy  cellar.  If  she 
thought  this  grand,  then  the  only  thing  he  had 
to  do  was  to  set  about  it.  He  grew  more  ani- 
mated, and  was  surprised  to  hear  himself 
laugh ;  and  finally,  looking  up,  first  at  her  and 
then  over  the  water,  he  exclaimed:  "Why,  it's 
summer  here!" 

She  laughed.  "Of  course  it's  summer  here. 
Have  you  only  just  discovered  that?" 

Inga  Rud  was  really  pleased  at  having  ven- 
tured to  speak  to  this  man;  and  as  she  stood 
looking  at  and  listening  to  him,  it  was  not  only 
of  him  she  thought,  but  of  things  altogether 


56  Treacherous  Groimd 

different.  She  found  him  just  what  he  had 
been  in  the  old  days,  just  as  awkward,  just  as 
full  of  his  own  plans,  just  as  careless  about  his 
personal  appearance ;  and  all  this  of  itself  took 
her  back  more  and  more  to  those  happy,  never- 
to-be-forgotten  years. 

They  glided  past  farm  after  farm  with  grey 
or  painted  buildings  toning  in  with  the  back- 
ground of  mountain  until  they  were  lost  in 
the  blue  summer  haze.  The  wooded  slopes 
were  as  silent  as  if  no  shot  had  ever  been  fired 
on  them.  The  steamer  seemed  strangely  soli- 
tary out  here  on  the  wide,  lifeless  fjord. 
People  had  cleared  the  ground  and  built  here 
for  thousands  of  years,  and  yet  there  were  no 
ruins,  no  monuments  to  be  seen ;  all  these  hun- 
dreds of  generations  had  disappeared  into  the 
abyss  of  time,  without  leaving  behind  them 
anything  more  than  a  few  scattered  strips  of 
cultivated  land. 

"She's  just  like  what  she  was  in  the  old 
days,"  thought  Erik,  and  felt  as  if  he  had 
grown  young  again,  and  was  meeting  her  for 
the  first  time.  She  still  had  a  fresh  colour  and 
the  same  beautiful  dark  eyebrows  and  soft, 
black  hair ;  but  round  her  eyes  there  were  now 
faint  traces  of  much  weeping.  Yes,  he  knew 
what  had  befallen  her,  and  what  that  meant. 


Treacherous  Ground  57 

At  this  point,  the  engineer  and  his  wife 
thought  it  was  about  time  to  disturb  the  two 
who  seemed  to  be  so  enjoying  one  another's 
society ;  and  as  soon  as  they  came  up  to  them 
and  had  shaken  hands,  Rein  began  to  relate 
a  piece  of  good  news  about  himself — namely, 
that  he  had  received  a  Government  scholar- 
ship, and  was  soon  going  abroad  for  a  year. 

"And  I'm  going  with  him!"  added  his  wife 
rapturously.  It  was  of  course  very  nice  for 
them,  but  Erik  and  Inga  Rud  exchanged  a 
quick  glance,  as  if  they  had  been  carried  away 
from  a  mutual  pleasure. 

In  the  meantime  a  carriage  was  being  driven 
down  the  avenue  from  Evje  Farm.  On  the 
box  sat  young  Lars  Brovold,  and  inside  was 
Fru  Eyje,  with  an  eager,  tired  face,  looking 
out  over  the  bay,  into  which  the  steamer  was 
moving,  with  its  bow  in  a  wave  of  foam.  When 
at  last  the  carriage  drew  up  at  the  trading- 
place,  the  vessel  was  just  laying  to  at  the  pier. 
Fru  Evje  did  not  feel  equal  to  getting  out,  and 
sat  looking  at  the  passengers,  who  were  now 
beginning  to  walk  over  the  bridge  and  up  the 
shore.  Had  he  not  come?  Her  heart  began 
to  beat.  That  tall,  bearded  man  in  an  ulster  f 
Oh  no! 


58  Treacherous  Ground 

"  Good-day,    mother!"    he    said,    looking 
towards  her. 


As  Inga  Rud's  carriage  had  not  arrived  in 
time,  she  accepted  the  offer  of  a  seat  in  the 
Reins'  little  chaise;  but  many  a  time  after- 
wards did  she  regret  that  she  had  not  rather 
walked. 

The  chaise  was  going  slowly  up  a  hill  when 
Fru  Rein  said : 

1  'Well,  Inga,  what  had  Erik  Evje  to  say 
for  himself  to-day?" 

Herr  Rein,  too,  looked  curiously  at  her.  She 
knew  that  she  was  the  only  person  to  whom 
Erik  had  as  yet  confided  his  plans,  and  she 
would  have  Liked  to  keep  the  confidence  a 
secret;  but  Rein's  ironical  smile  irritated  her. 
Erik  Evje  was  every  bit  as  good  as  Rein,  and, 
to  show  him  this,  she  told  him  about  the  work- 
men's holdings.  When  she  had  finished,  she 
was  a  little  curious  about  the  effect.  What 
would  he  say? 

"What  do  you  say  to  that,  Ingvald?"  asked 
his  wife,  turning  to  him. 

Rein  looked  straight  before  him  for  a  little 
while,  and  cracked  his  whip  once  or  twice. 
"The  fallow  land  on  the  Evje  estate?"  he 


59 


said  at  last.  "That  must  surely  be  along  by 
the  river?" 

"Yes,"  said  Inga,  "that's  just  where  he 
said  it  was." 

"Hm!"  And  then:  "That's  rather  tire- 
some." 

"Tiresome?"  cried  both  women. 

"Yes,  unfortunately;  for  the  land  there  is 
quite  uninhabitable." 

"What?,  Why?" 

Until  now,  Rein  had  seemed  to  be  joking, 
but  now  he  continued  gravely : 

"There  can't  be  any  harm  in  my  saying  it, 
I  suppose.  Last  year  we  were  going  to  try 
to  lay  the  new  railway-line  along  there,  but 
had  to  give  it  up,  for  the  land  lies  upon  a 
quagmire,  as  if  it  were  on  a  volcano.  If  you 
clear  away  the  trees  that  up  to  the  present 
have  kept  the  hills  together,  and  make  holes 
in  the  thin  crust  of  earth  by  digging  ditches, 
it  will  only  need  one  autumn  or  spring  flood 
to  send  the  whole  of  Evje's  colony  sliding  out 
into  the  fjord.  So  it's  quite  unwarrantable 
to  set  people  down  to  live  there,  even  if  they're 
only  a  few  poor  workmen." 

Both  women  were  silent  for  some  time. 
They  knew  what  such  a  quagmire  meant — a 
liquid,  deceptive  mass  of  clay,  that  may  be 


60  Treacherous  Ground 

hidden  under  the  finest  land.  It  had  been  the 
cause  of  many  a  farm,  often  a  whole  district 
in  these  parts,  sliding  out  into  the  fjord,  or 
disappearing  as  if  swallowed  up  by  an  abyss. 

"Oh,  how  dreadful!"  sighed  Inga. 

"You  always  seem  to  think  a  thing's  un- 
warrantable when  it's  to  do  good,  Ingvald!" 
said  Pru  Rein  a  little  bitterly. 

"Well,  well,  it  hasn't  anything  to  do  with 
me,  of  course,"  said  Rein,  laughing  softly; 
"and  we're  going  away,  so  I  shall  certainly 
not  disturb  Herr  Evje's  philanthropic  plans." 

Inga  Rud  sat  silent,  with  her  head  turned 
away.  What  had  passed  seemed  to  darken  her 
brightest  memories,  which  had  become  so  vivid 
to-day;  and  it  was  as  if  Erik  Evje  were  about 
to  face  some  great  danger. 

But  could  she  warn  him  $  Oh  no,  that  would 
be  too  heartless  a  thing  to  do ! 


Chapter  IV 


Erik's  home-coming  was  a  very  different 
thing  from  that  which  he  had  feared.  The 
meeting  on  board,  and  his  new  plans,  which 
had  become  so  real,  had  given  him  a  new  as- 
surance and  self-confidence.  It  was  certainly 
not  humbling  himself  to  embrace  his  mother, 
and  he  could  safely  enjoy  the  sight  of  the  first 
Evje  hills.  The  distant  sound  of  the  waterfall 
awakened  a  number  of  memories  from  his 
childhood;  and  to-day  they  seemed  brighter 
than  they  had  ever  been  before. 

And  there  was  the  house,  with  the  flag  flying 
in  his  honour. 

At  last  he  was  walking  about  the  large  rooms 
at  Evje.  This  was  something  very  different 
from  an  attic  with  a  view  of  sooty  roofs  and 
chimneys.  With  all  this  space  and  light,  these 
rooms  seemed  to  be  open  to  the  sky  and  the 
f  j  ord.  ' '  How  long  you  have  been  away ! ' '  were 
the  words  he  seemed  to  hear  on  all  sides.  i  l  But 

61 


62  Treacherous  Ground 

all  this  can  now  be  yours,  the  land,  the  forests, 
horses,  houses,  furniture,  silver  and  every- 
thing." Was  it  true?  And  a  new,  pleasant 
sensation  came  over  him,  the  joy  of  owner- 
ship, the  ability  to  settle  down  here  as  in  a 
fortified  castle,  without  the  possibility  of  a 
Mogstad's  agitating  or  voting  his  dismissal. 

He  went  from  room  to  room,  but  in  the 
corner  room  suddenly  stopped,  and  put  his 
hand  over  his  eyes.  What  was  it  ?  Over  there 
on  the  sofa  by  the  round  table  he  seemed  to 
see  his  father  drinking  with  the  peasants,  be- 
cause the  sale  of  a  farm  was  to  be  arranged. 
" Nonsense!"  he  thought,  and  hurried  out. 
This  was  not  a  thing  to  think  of  now ;  besides 
his  mother  had  sold  the  distillery  to  a  com- 
pany. There  were  other  times  and  customs 
at  Evje  now. 

He  went  out  on  to  the  verandah,  and  leaned 
over  the  railing.  The  grass  and  flowers  were 
high  about  the  trunks  of  the  apple-trees,  whose 
pink  blossom  stood  out  against  a  background 
of  summer-blue  fjord.  There  was  a  smell  of 
the  sea  here,  and  from  the  garden  rose  a  flood 
of  perfume;  but  down  among  the  fruit-trees 
a  little  grey-bearded  man  with  a  wheel-barrow 
was  moving  about,  and  Erik  again  felt  a  slight 
pang.  Was  it — he? 


Treacherous  Ground  63 

"I  expect  you're  both  hungry  and  thirsty," 
said  Fru  Evje,  coming  out  to  him  with  a  large 
glass  of  milk  on  a  tray.  She  had  not  yet 
brought  herself  to  ask  him  how  long  he  was 
going  to  stay  at  home. 

" Mother,  who's  that  man  there?" 

"That's  Peter  Troen.  Don't  you  know  our 
men  again?" 

Fru  Evje  did  not  notice  that  Erik:  com- 
pressed his  lips  as  if  he  had  had  a  sudden  at- 
tack of  toothache;  but  Peter  Troen  was  the 
father  of  Olina,  who  was  in  prison,  and  he  had 
Erik's  son  to  bring  up,  and  yet  he  was  going 
about  his  duties  here  as  before.  "How  am  I 
going  to  behave  to  him  now  ?"  Erik  asked  him- 
self, and,  as  he  did  so,  he  seemed  to  hear  Mog- 
stad's  scornful  laughter. 

"Are  you  going  to  be  home  for  long?" 
asked  his  mother  cautiously,  not  daring  to  look 
at  him.  The  answer  did  not  come  immediately, 
and  she  had  to  sit  down  on  a  chair  close  to  her, 
for  she  was  trembling  with  anxiety.  Sir 
waited  for  the  answer  as  she  would  have  done 
for  a  blow  on  the  head. 

"Well,  mother,  I  don't  know.  I  had 
thought,"  he  said,  beginning  to  pace  up  and 
down  the  verandah,  "to  stay  as  long  as  you 
liked." 


64  Treacherous  Ground 

"Erik!"  she  whispered,  but  felt  unable  to 
get  up  and  throw  her  arms  round  him, 
"Erik!"  she  repeated,  trembling  with  joy. 
"Do  you  really  mean  it?" 

"Mother,  he  said,  stopping  in  his  walk  and 
looking  dc  ,vn,  "is  Bertil  Sveen  still  un- 
married?" 

"What?"  she  said,  opening  her  eyes  in  as- 
tonishment that  anything  so  unimportant  as 
the  head  labourer  and  his  engagement  could 
exist  now. 

Erik  had  to  repeat  his  question,  looking 
anxiously  at  his  mother. 

' '  Oh,  Bertil  ?  Oh  yes,  he 's  exactly  as  he  was. 
But  why  do  you  ask?  Come  here,  Erik!"  She 
smiled  with  tears  in  her  eyes.  He  went  to  her 
and  kissed  her  on  both  cheeks.  He  felt  an  es- 
pecial pleasure  in  the  knowledge  that  the  man 
was  still  unable  to  make  enough  to  marry 
upon,  for  then  his  plan  of  helpi.  g  him  would 
not  be  in  vain ;  the  beginning,  at  any  rate,  of 
his  undertaking  was  assured. 

During  the  next  few  days  there  was  no  lack 
of  little,  painful  impressions  to  be  faced,  and 
it  would  have  been  hard  for  him  to  keep  in 
good  spirits  as  he  did,  without  these  plans  for 
the  labourers'  holdings  to  counterbalance 
them.  They  followed  him  like  a  good  genie 


Treacherous  Ground  65 

that  held  him  by  the  hand  and  said:  "Never 
mind!  When  once  you  set  to  work  on  this, 
everything  will  be  all  right. ' ' 

He  learned  that  his  mother  had  gone  to  law 
about  a  salmon-fishing  right,  with  some  fisher- 
men out  on  the  shore ;  and  this  brought  before 
him  a  vision  of  those  toil-worn  men  in  their 
little  cottages  along  the  rocks.  The  salmon- 
fishing  was  the  half  of  life  to  them,  and  yet 
his  mother  actually  wanted  to  take  it  from 
them,  and  the  law  and  society  would  help  her. 
Would  he  have  to  take  over  this  lawsuit  too, 
and  go  on  with  it,  or  leave  his  mother  in  the 
lurch  ?  He  was  still  more  pained  when  she  told 
him  one  day  that  she  was  going  to  dismiss  one 
of  the  maids,  because  the  girl  was  going  to 
have  her  second  child.  "The  first  time,"  she 
said,  "I  was  sorry  for  her,  but  now,  upon  my 
word,  she  expects  to  stay  with  number  two  as 
well!  Oh,  the  servants  one  gets  nowadays!'* 

"This  is  Olina's  story  over  again!"  thought 
Erik.  The  child's  father  was'  young  Lars 
Brovold.  '  '  Perhaps  he  has  promised  to  marry 
her — as  I  did  that  time.  Will  I  allow  her  to 
be  sent  away?" 

But  was  he  going  to  begin  at  once  to  set 
himself  up  against  this  mother  of  his,  to  whom 
he  had  already  been  the  cause  of  so  much 


66  Treacherous   Ground 

sorrow,  and  by  whose  care  for  him  he  was  now 
touched  twenty  times  a  day?  She  seemed  to 
do  nothing  but  go  about  pondering  how  she 
could  give  him  some  little  pleasure.  It  was 
all  so  unspeakably  nice  after  being  so  mis- 
erable as  he  had  been.  Her  way  of  speaking 
to  him,  too,  had  become  so  submissively  cau- 
tious that  he  felt  an  involuntary  desire  to 
spare  her,  to  kiss  her  on  both  cheeks  and  say 
that  she  was  always  right. 

For  the  present  he  might  well  rest,  and 
forget  all  the  darkness  from  which  he  came; 
only  eat  and  sleep  and  go  quietly  about  and 
collect  his  thoughts.  "When  once  I  get  my 
plans  started,"  he  thought,  "everything  will 
come  right." 

It  was  a  pleasure  to  go  to  his  room  at  night, 
the  room  in  which  he  and  his  brother  had  slept 
in  the  old  days;  to  open  the  window  to  the 
light  summer  night,  and  let  the  breeze  from 
the  fjord  blow  the  curtain  about  while  1.3 
slept ;  to  wake  late  to  find  the  room  full  of  sun- 
shine and  to  see  his  mother,  fresh  and  smiling, 
coming  in  with  his  coffee ;  to  go  about  all  day 
long  without  meeting  enemies ;  to  lie  on  a  bank 
in  the  sun,  gazing  at  the  sky  and  the  fjord, 
and  let  the  time  pass.  Bel  ind  those  moun- 
tains, it  is  true,  there  lies  a  1  own,  and  in  that 


Treacherous  Ground  67 

town  there  are  two  persons,  who Non- 
sense !  "  I  wish  you  every  success,  Herr  Evje. ' ' 
It  would  be  better  for  him  to  think  whether 
he  should  call  upon  her  parents.  "Suppose 
I  were  to  be  successful  in  love  some  day!" 
And  the  grasshoppers  chirped  in  the  warm 
grass,  the  sun  shone  warm  on  his  closed  eye- 
lids, and  the  waterfall  and  the  river  sang  their 
song  out  into  the  air. 

When  he  went  round  the  fields  and  meadows 
with  his  mother,  while  she  tried  to  make  him 
acquainted  with  the  conditions  of  the  place, 
he  felt  as  if  she  were  enticing  his  thoughts,  so 
that  they  should  all  come  home  again. 

If  only  there  had  been  no  memories! 

As  the  days  passed,  he  felt  greater  safety 
in  being  close  to  his  mother.  She  looked  at 
everything  from  such  a  healthy  point  of  view ; 
she  was  so  strong  and  tireless,  always  busy, 
with  a  thousand  things  in  her  head,  at  one 
moment  with  the  farm  labourers  and  the  work- 
people, the  next  in  the  office,  giving  orders  to 
the  farm  and  forest  overseers,  and  immedi- 
ately ^afterwards  in  the  kitchen  and  larder,  and 
always  lively,  whether  she  scolded  or  laughed. 
She  had  had  many  difficulties  to  overcome,  and 
had  worked  hard;  but  she  was  still  like  a 
young  woman.  One  day  she  came  in  with  a 


68 


pair  of  scissors,  and  made  him  sit  down,  say- 
ing: "I  really  will  not  see  you  with  that  hair 
and  beard  any  longer!  We're  going  to  shear 
sheep  to-morrow,  but  to-day  you  shall  have  a 
turn.  A  young  man,  who's  soon  going  court- 
ing! For  shame!" 

During  the  operation,  Erik  happened  to 
say : ' '  Fancy !  It  must  be  at  least  twenty  years 
since  you  cut  my  hair,  mother." 

"Any  one  would  think  it  was  thirty,"  she 
answered. 

Her  good  spirits  and  energy  infected  him, 
and  he  began  to  help  her.  He  sat  in  his 
father's  chair  in  the  office  and  wrote  her 
letters;  and  he  went  about  among  the  work- 
people and  farm  hands,  and  gave  them  her 
orders.  Gradually,  as  he  obtained  informa- 
tion from  her  about  the  work,  he  came  imper- 
ceptibly to  think  that,  after  all,  what  she  said 
was  best  and  would  be  the  best  way  to  go  on 
in  the  future. 

He  had  a  feeling  that  he  was  drifting 
quietly  along,  with  his  eyes  closed  to  every- 
thing that  was  painful,  and  with  a  dim  per- 
ception of  an  inferno  of  thoughts  which  he 
would  like  to  keep  covered  up.  On  rare  oc- 
casions, however,  a  voice  would  make  itself 
heard,  and  wake  him  up.  "How  is  this  going 


Treacherous  Ground  69 

to  end?  Why  do  I  say  nothing  to  mother 
about  my  plans?" 

Good  heavens,  could  he  not  be  left  in  peace 
for  a  little  while  1 

One  day  he  went  with  his  mother  to  call  on 
the  families  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  as  they 
approached  the  parish  doctor's  long  yellow- 
painted  buildings,  his  heart  beat  with  excite- 
ment at  the  thought  of  seeing  Inga  Rud 
again.  She  was  not  at  home ;  but  as  they  drove 
away  from  the  house,  Erik  was  sure  he  caught 
a  glimpse  of  her  up  at  an  attic  window.  ' '  So 
she  will  not  meet  me,"  he  thought.  "Well,  I 
might  have  known  as  much." 

It  was  a  little  sad  to  return  to  Evje  Farm. 
It  was  as  if  the  golden  idea  that  had  been  his 
daily  comfort  had  lost  its  beautiful  dark  eye- 
brows. 

"No  one  cares  about  me  but  mother,"  he 
thought ;  "and  I  was  going  to  offend  her." 

But  if  any  one  was  happy  just  now,  it  was 
Fru  Evje.  She  had  never  dreamt  that  Erik 
could  be  so  accommodating  and  sensible 
about  everything;  but,  whenever  she  noticed 
him  grow  silent  and  melancholy,  she  felt  a 
secret  terror  that  he  might  suddenly  take  it 
into  his  head  to  go  away  again.  "If  I  let  him 
take  over  the  whole  thing,"  she  thought,  "he 


70  Treacherous  Ground 

would  marry,  and  then  lie  would  settle  down 
all  right."  ' 

Something  of  the  same  sort  was  in  Erik's 
mind  too.  And  one  day  they  drove  to  the  dis- 
trict magistrate's  to  get  the  papers  signed; 
and  when  they  drove  back,  Erik  was  owner  of 
Evje  Farm  with  its  forests  and  works.  Fru 
Evje  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief,  for  now  her 
only  son  was  bound  to  her  and  the  farm.  It 
was,  indeed,  strange  to  let  go  her  hold  of  it  all  ; 
but  in  the  meantime  everything  would  go  on  as 
before,  and  that  was  the  main  thing. 

When  Erik  the  next  day  went  over  the  fields 
to  look  at  the  crops,  he  was  in  a  strange  mood. 
He  was  master  here  now :  all  this  was  his.  He 
once  more  heard  voices  from  an  inferno  that 
he  would  like  to  keep  closed.  They  were  re- 
membrances of  his  own  speeches  and  articles 
against  private  ownership  of  land.  "Is  this 
land,"  he  thought,  and  he  rubbed  his  eyes, 
"that  I'm  walking  on,  really  mine  to-day?  It 
wasn't  yesterday.  Is  it  I  who  have  cleared 
and  tilled  it,  since  it  suddenly  belongs  to  me  ? 
And  those  twelve  horses  tethered  there — I  may 
now  kill,  or  sell,  or  ill-treat,  or  use,  just  as  I 
like.  That's  what  it  is  to  own  something." 

It  was  the  same  thing  when  he  came  to  the 
sawmills,  where  the  wheels  hummed  and 


Treacherous  Ground  71 

people  ran  backwards  and  forwards  among  the 
timber  and  planks,  and  were  very  busy.  He 
had  to  ask  himself  why  this  waterfall  drove 
the  wheels  for  him,  and  why  these  workmen 
toiled  and  sweated  to  earn  money  just  for  his 
pocket.  "I  haven't  myself  worked  an  hour 
here;  I  haven't  lifted  a  finger  to  set  it  going; 

and  yet — and  yet What  did  I  write 

once?" 

In  this  way  Erik's  life  as  a  large  landed 
proprietor  began.  It  was  not  once  only  that 
he  felt  ashamed,  but  on  the  other  hand  he  often 
felt  a  desire  to  give  a  kick  to  feelings  such  as 
these,  as  though  they  had  been  Mogstad  again 
suddenly  appearing  and  wanting  to  drive  him 
out  of  this  position  too.  But  he  really  meant 
to  put  much  that  was  crooked  here  straight, 
and  then  there  were  the  labourers'  holdings. 

But  now,  when  at  last  he  had  a  free  hand 
and  could  at  once  realise  his  beautiful  idea, 
now  he  kept  on  putting  it  off.  It  had  been  so 
easy  to  give  away  land  when  he  had  none ;  but 
now?  In  the  course  of  a  few  weeks  he  had 
awakened  to  the  fact  that  one's  land,  forests 
and  works  are  more  than  dead  property;  to- 
gether they  form  one's  home,  and  in  time  will 
become  more  and  more  part  of  oneself.  Here 
he  had  been  raised  up  again  after  the  bitter 


72  Treacherous  Ground 

defeats  lie  had  suffered  out  in  the  world ;  here 
he  was  master,  and  could  drive  Mogstad  away 
with  a  riding-whip,  without  putting  it  to  the 
vote.  Here  he  would  remain  for  the  rest  of  his 
life,  like  his  forefathers.  To  his  mother  the 
giving  away  of  the  land  of  the  farm  would  be 
like  cutting  off  pieces  of  her  own  flesh.  And 
he  himself  ? 

Then  there  were  the  reforms.  And  again 
he  awoke  to  the  fact  that  i^s_easier_tg_JS?lite 
about  reforms  in  a  newspaper,  than  to  carry 
them  out.  He  sincerely  meant  to  increase  the 
workmen's  daily  wage;  but  when  he  had  dis- 
cussed the  matter  with  the  fat,  red-haired 
overseer  of  forests,  it  ended  with  his  having 
to  acknowledge  that  that  experienced  man 
was  right  in  saying  that  it  was  not  the  time 
for  that  just  now.  He  even  had  to  agree  to 
that  which  had  in  his  opinion  been  the  worst 
thing  in  his  father's  business,  the  continual 
purchase  of  farms — for  the  purpose  of  plun- 
dering the  forest.  The  forest  overseer  made 
him  see  that  it  was  the  only  way  of  insuring  a 
supply  of  timber  for  the  saw  and  planing 
mills;  so  it  would  have  to  go  on,  for  the 
present. 

This  large  branch  of  the  business  was  like 
a  huge  machine,  working  on  unchangeably; 


73 


and  he  had  not  the  courage  to  interfere  and 
alter  the/  smallest  wheel,  for  fear  of  disturbing 
the  whole.  He  would  not  for  all  the  world 
commit  follies  and  become  homeless  once  more. 

But  how  was  it  going  to  end  I 

One  Sunday  morning,  while  the  church  bells 
were  ringing,  he  came,  when  wandering  over 
the  fields,  upon  the  remains  of  a  house.  He 
came  to  a  sudden  halt,  and  turned  away  as 
if  he  had  seen  a  ghost.  He  remembered  dis- 
tinctly how  his  father  had  had  an  execution 
sale  at  this  house,  and  how  he  had  seen  the 
man,  with  his  wife  and  children,  go  from  it 
empty-handed,  brought  to  beggary  by  his 
father.  The  house  became  part  of  Evje,  and 
so  easy  a  conscience  had  his  father,  that  he 
had  not  even  removed  the  traces  of  the  house 
to  wipe  out  the  remembrance  of  his  act. 
"You  have  inherited  this,  Erik,"  said  a  well- 
known  voice.  "It's  a  fine  inheritance  you 
have  to  take  up.  Look  here,  good  people! 
Didn't  I  say  so?" 

When  Erik  returned  to  the  house,  his 
mother,  in  a  black  silk  dress,  was  standing 
before  the  mirror  in  the  drawing-room,  ar- 
ranging her  bonnet.  "Are  you  going  out, 
mother?"  he  asked,  dropping  into  a  chair. 

"I'm  going  to  church,  of  course,"  she  an- 


74  Treacherous  Ground 

swered ;  and  he  saw  that  she  was  on  the  point 
of  asking  him  to  go  with  her,  but  kept  silence 
to  spare  him. 

1  'How  pale  you  are,  Erik!"  she  said,  look- 
ing at  him  anxiously.  "Don't  you  sleep  well 
here  in  the  country?" 

Erik  tried  to  smile.  "Oh  yes!  There's 
nothing  the  matter  with  me.  But  I  happened 
to  pass  the  place  where  that  neighbour  of  ours 
lived,  who — who  sold  his  house  to  father.  I  re- 
member they  had  a  little  girl — Kirsten,  I 
think  was  her  name — whom  I  often  played 
with  when  I  was  a  small  boy.  She  was  so  neat 
and  pretty,  and  always  wore  a  red  ribbon  in 
her  hair.  Do  you  know  at  all  what's  become 
of  them?" 

His  mother  shook  her  head. 

"What  a  pity  that  things  should  have  gone 
so  badly  with  them ! ' '  Erik  exclaimed,  looking 
at  his  mother  in  the  hope  of  a  reassuring 
answer. 

Fru  Evje  sighed  into  the  mirror,  as  she  tied 
her  bonnet-strings.  "Ah  yes,  the  Lord  some- 
times punishes  severely,"  she  said.  "You 
don't  know  what  a  wicked  house  that  was!" 
And  in  her  voice  there  was  such  sincere  as- 
surance that  the  ejection  of  their  neighbour 


Treacherous  Ground  75 

was  the  Lord's  doing,  that  Erik  felt  inclined 
both  to  laugh  and  to  cry. 

"Good-bye!"  she  said,  with  a  little  sigh,  go- 
ing towards  the  door. 

Erik  remained  standing  on  the  verandah, 
watching  his  mother  as  she  drove  down  the 
avenue  in  the  pony-chaise. 

" yhat's  what  it  is  to  believe  in  a  God!"  he 
thought.  "You  can  do  anything,  and  yet  sleep 
and  be  just  as  cheerful.  But  I — who  am 
alone!"  A  strange  feeling  of  giddiness  came 
over  him,  and  he  had  to  sit  down;  and  once 
more  he  heard  voices  from  a  lower  world,  to 
which  he  would  not  listen  in  the  day's  activity : 
"How  is  it  going  to  end?  Why  do  you  always 
avoid  meeting  old  Peter  Troen?  Why  are 
you  ashamed  to  look  at  the  maidservant  Petra, 
who  is  going  to  be  dismissed ?  Why  don't  you 
start  your  workmen's  holdings  scheme  ?  Were 
all  your  youthful  ideals  nothing  but  empty 
words?  What  is  there  left?  Why,  the  la- 
bourers whose  wages  are  not  to  be  raised,  the 
land  of  a  neighbour  whom  your  father  brought 
to  beggary,  the  plundered  forests,  the  lawsuit 
with  the  fishermen,  shares  in  a  distillery — 
that's  what  you  have  to  live  for  in  the  future !" 

He  covered  his  face  with  his  hands.  "Have  I 
drifted  ashore  here,  and  am  I  nailed  fast  to 


76  Treacherous  Ground 

all  this  ?  I  shall  soon  be  exactly  like  my  father, 
and  shall  live  his  life;  and  my  soul  will  rot 
inch  by  inch." 

When  Fru  Evje  returned  from  church,  she 
found  Erik  sitting  in  a  wicker  chair  on  the 
verandah,  with  a  bottle  beside  him  and  a 
cigar-end  in  the  corner  of  his  mouth.  She 
stood  still  and  gazed  at  him,  and  he  smiled  an 
idiotic  smile.  He  was  dead-drunk. 


Chapter  V 


A  green-painted  sloop,  laden  with  timber,  was 
moving  slowly  out  upon  the  fjord,  whose 
waters  reflected  the  ruddy  glow  of  evening, 
with  here  and  there  the  blue  trail  of  a  puff  of 
wind  thrown  upon  their  surface.  At  Hustad 
Farm,  on  the  other  side  of  the  fjord,  the  even- 
ing bell  begins  to  ring,  and  is  immediately  an- 
swered by  the  bell  at  Evje.  The  slow  strokes 
go  on  sounding  for  some  time,  because  the  girl 
at  Hustad  and  the  cook  at  Evje  know  one  an- 
other's way  of  ringing,  and  think  it  fun  to 
have  a  little  chat  in  this  way  from  either  side 
of  the  fjord.  Out  in  the  fields  where  the  hay- 
making has  begun,  work  ceases,  the  horses  are 
unharnessed  and  tethered,  and  the  girls 
shoulder  their  rakes  and  are  the  first  to  make 
their  way  to  the  farm. 

Young  Lars  Brovold  took  his  time  so  as  to 
be  the  last.  He  dreaded  having  to  sit  down 
with  the  others,  for  latterly  he  had  had  to  put 

77 


78  Treacherous  Ground 

up  with  many  gibes  about  Petra.  Now,  for- 
tunately, she  would  not  have  many  more  days 
at  the  farm,  and  a  good  thing  too ! 

Lars  was  a  big  fellow  of  twenty,  with  fair 
hair  and  broad  shoulders.  He  was  a  general 
favourite,  being  just  as  cheerful  when  work- 
ing hard  as  when  playing  the  fiddle  at  a  dance, 
or  singing  songs  with  a  girl  on  his  knee.  He 
was  considered  quite  a  hero  by  the  servants 
at  Evje,  because  he  could  venture  to  jest  with 
the  mistress  herself. 

He  stopped  on  his  way  up  the  hill,  wiped 
the  perspiration  from  his  forehead,  and  sighed 
as  he  turned  to  the  fjord;  for  it  was  and  al- 
ways would  be  inconceivable  how,  at  Christ- 
mas, he  should  have  been  so  intoxicated  as  to 
make  his  way  into  that  girl's  room,  and  she  not 
young  either.  Was  it  so  certain,  after  all,  that 
he  was  the  child's  father  ?  There  was  another 
girl  up  the  valley,  called  Kristina ;  and  she  had 
the  most  beautiful  voice  in  the  church,  and  a 
waist  as  supple  as  a  willow-wand.  But  now, 
when  he  was  bantered  by  the  whole  country- 
side, Knut  Babben  would  get  her  after  all. 

Lars  dropped  on  to  the  bank,  and  pulled  a 
blade  of  grass,  which  he  began  to  chew.  If 
he  were  to  go  into  the  military  college  in  the 
autumn,  and  came  home  at  Christmas  and 


Treacherous  Ground  79 

showed  himself  at  church  in  his  uniform,  that 
might  perhaps  help  to  put  matters  straight. 
He  had  better  make  up  his  mind  to  do  some- 
thing. 

When  at  last  he  entered  the  house,  the  others 
were  half-way  through  their  supper,  and  the 
spoons  were  busy  with  the  porridge  plates, 
while  the  red  light  from  the  sun  fell  across 
two  long  rows  of  perspiring,  weather-beaten 
faces.  The  shoemaker,  sitting  by  the  window, 
had  not  yet  left  his  work,  but  was  hammering 
at  a  sole.  To  Lars's  relief,  no  one  seemed  to 
notice  him;  but  there  was  some  tittering  and 
whispering  going  on  about  something  that  it 
was  better  not  to  speak  too  loud  about.  When 
Lars  had  taken  his  seat  at  the  bottom  of  the 
table  with  his  spoon,  he  found  out  that  it  was 
about  the  family.  Something  must  have  hap- 
pened. Young  Herr  Evje  had  not  been  seen 
for  a  couple  of  days,  and  Fru  Evje's  face 
showed  traces  of  tc  irs ;  but  there  was  nothing 
to  be  got  out  of  the  maids  in  the  house.  What 
could  have  happen  jd  ? 

Toger,  the  shoemaker,  rose  at  last,  took  off 
his  leather  apron,  removed  the  quid  from  his 
mouth,  and  limped  up  to  take  his  place  at  the 
table.  As  he  did  so,  a  fair-haired  girl  came 
in  from  the  kitchen  with  more  milk,  and  be- 


80  Treacherous  Ground 

hind  her,  through  the  half -open  door,  a  little 
red-haired  boy  slipped  into  the  room.  The 
shoemaker  twisted  round  upon  his  short  leg, 
and  caught  hold  of  the  little  boy,  who  was 
dressed  in  a  tunic.  "Hi,  boy,  come  here  and 
you  shall  have  some  porridge!"  he  said,  lift- 
ing the  child  up  on  his  arm.  A  laugh  began  to 
go  round  the  table.  The  boy  strove  to  free 
himself,  and  began  to  scream;  and  the  next 
moment  a  big,  red-haired  girl  came  rushing  in 
from  the  kitchen,  seized  the  boy,  and  swept  out 
again,  banging  the  kitchen  door  after  her,  and 
leaving  the  shoemaker  with  a  quizzical  look 
on  his  face.  "My  goodness,  Petra!"  he  cried. 
"Even  if  we  took  your  boy,  you  know  quite 
well  that  you'll  soon  have  another." 

Lars  Brovold  turned  fiery  red,  and  the  por- 
ridge nearly  choked  him ;  for  now  he  expected 
he  would  get  it. 

He  was  right,  too.  When  the  shoemaker  had 
begun  his  porridge  he  remarked,  without  ad- 
dressing any  one  in  particular:  "AJ  well, 
Petra  has  a  great  liking  for  young  people." 

The  others  tittered  and  looked  at  Lars.  He, 
however,  meant  to  stop  old  Peter  Troen's 
mouth  at  any  rate,  and  cried,  as  he  brought 
down  his  fist  upon  the  table:  "You  can  just 
hold  your  tongue  about  it,  Peter!  Perhaps 


Treacherous  Ground  81 

your  daughter's  going  to  marry  Evje  when  she 
comes  out  of  prison,  is  she  V9 

This  was  a  little  too  pointed  for  all  to  laugh 
at  it,  but  the  hand  of  the  old  grey-bearded  man 
began  to  tremble,  so  that  the  milk  splashed  out 
of  his  spoon.  He  brushed  away  the  spilt 
liquid  with  a  quick  movement  of  his  hand,  and 
said:  "Oh,  you  don't  need  to  trouble  about 
my  daughter,  Lars;  she'll  get  a  ticket  to  take 
her  to  America  as  soon  as  she  needs  it." 

At  this  point  the  door  opened,  and  silence 
fell.  It  was  Bertil  Sveen,  the  head  labourer, 
who  entered.  The  big  man,  with  the  small 
brown  beard  under  his  chin,  walked  with  a 
heavy  step  across  the  floor,  opened  an  old  bu- 
reau standing  against  the  other  wall,  and 
placed  something  in  a  drawer.  But  just  as 
the  sloping  lid  descended,  a  photograph  be- 
came visible  to  all.  It  was  sunk  into  the  wood 
on  the  inside  of  the  lid,  and  they  all  knew  that 
it  was  that  of  the  woman  on  the  other  side  of 
the  fjord,  to  whom  he  had  been  engaged  for 
fifteen  years.  It  was  an  engagement  that  was 
universally  laughed  at ;  but  Bertil  had  lost  all 
his  savings  by  standing  surety  for  his  brother, 
and  he  still  had  .o  pay  upo^  that '"  ebt.  So  the 
marriage  was  put  off  ag?'  j  and  again,  because 


82  Treacherous  Ground 

the  elderly  couple  could  not  afford  to  live  to- 
gether. 

"How's  your  sweetheart  ?"  asked  Lars  Bro- 
vold,  in  order  to  turn  the  conversation  from 
himself.  All  the  others  at  the  table  looked  at 
him  with  wide-open  eyes,  as  much  as  to  say, 
" You'd  better  be  careful!" 

Bertil  did  not  appear  to  have  heard.  He 
locked  the  bureau,  came  slowly  across  the 
room,  and  seated  himself  at  the  table,  on  the 
bench  running  along  the  wall.  He  then 
reached  over  his  shoulder  for  his  spoon,  which 
he  kept  in  a  crack  in  the  log  wall,  stroked  the 
bowl  with  his  hand,  and  began  to  eat. 

The  low  room,  with  its  windows  darkened 
with  plants  in  pots,  gradually  became  un- 
bearably hot.  The  sun  was  still  sending  a 
stream  of  red  light  across  the  floor,  and 
swarms  of  flies  buzzed  about  the  milk  and  por- 
ridge on  the  table,  and  settled  on  the  hot  faces 
of  the  men  and  women.  The  women,  one  after 
another,  laid  down  their  spoons,  got  up  with  a 
little  sigh,  and  left  the  table  to  get  their  hand- 
kerchiefs to  tie  over  their  heads. 

Once  more  the  door  opened,  and  the  house- 
maid from  the  house  put  in  her  blond  head. 
"Evje  wants  to  speak  to  the  head  man!"  she 
said  at  haphazard,  withdrew  her  head  again, 


Treacherous  Ground  83 

and  was  gone.  The  men  at  the  table  looked 
at  one  another,  as  if  this  meant  something  un- 
usual. There  would  soon  be  news  to  hear  from 
the  house. 

Bertil  took  another  spoonful  or  two  before 
he  turned  his  head  and  growled  "Oh";  but, 
when  he  had  gone  on  eating  a  little  while 
longer,  he  wiped  his  spoon  upon  the  palm  of 
his  hand,  and  put  it  back  in  its  place  in  the 
wall.  If  he  was  to  go  actually  into  the  house, 
he  had  better  make  himself  a  little  tidy;  and 
therefore,  when  half-an-hour  later  he  crossed 
the  yard  with  his  thumbs  in  his  waistcoat 
pockets,  he  had  washed  his  face  and  hands,  and 
changed  his  trousers. 

In  the  meantime  Lars  Brovold  was  quietly 
shaving  himself  in  his  little  room,  although 
there  was  not  much  to  take  off.  When  he  had 
finished,  he  put  on  his  best  clothes,  put  his  new 
short  pipe  with  the  silver  lid  in  his  waistcoat 
pocket,  and  his  blue  cap  upon  his  fair  hair, 
and  set  off  down  the  sandy  white  road  to 
Viken.  He  was  free  this  evening,  and  he  had 
an  idea  that  a  certain  young  woman  would  be 
coming  into  the  shop,  as  it  was  post  day ;  and 
she  might  as  well  know  about  the  military 
college. 

Fortune  favoured  him,  for  he  had  not  sat 


84  Treacherous  Ground 

long  upon  the  rocks  above  the  shop,  before 
he  saw  her  coming  down  the  road  among  some 
others.  She  had  a  basket  on  her  arm,  and  was 
dressed  in  a  dark  dress,  with  a  black  handker- 
chief on  her  head.  She  was  walking  quickly 
and  swinging  her  disengaged  arm,  all  unaware 
who  was  sitting  there. 

It  happened  that  he  was  standing  at  the 
counter  when  she  came  in,  buying  a  packet  of 
sweets  and  some  tobacco  and  matches ;  for  he 
did  not  want  it  to  look  as  if  he  had  been  wait- 
ing for  her.  She  reddened  a  little  at  sight  of 
him,  and  then  said,  looking  at  the  bag  of  to- 
bacco: "That  doesn't  make  you  ill  now,  I  sup- 
pose?" He  was  delighted  at  her  speaking  to 
him,  but  looked  consequential  and  said  that  it 
was  a  good  long  time  since  he  was  a  child.  And 
then  it  also  happened  that  he  was  ready  and 
was  just  going  when  she  went. 

She  allowed  him  to  carry  her  breakfast  for 
her,  and  the  two  young  people  set  off  up  the 
road.  He  found  out  that  she  was  the  only  per- 
son in  the  whole  countryside  who  was  not  sun- 
burnt. She  had  a  little  scar  in  the  corner  of 
her  mouth,  from  a  fall  that  she  had  had  when 
skiing  at  the  time  when  they  were  at  school  to- 
gether. Whenever  he  said  anything,  she  gave 
him  a  sidelong  glance  and  laughed.  "What 


Treacherous  Ground  85 

nonsense!"  she  said,  and  tried  to  be  serious. 
'  *  That 's  all  rubbish,  of  course ! "  "  It 's  as  true 
as  I  stand  here!"  he  said  earnestly,  although 
he  did  not  really  know  what  he  had  been  talk- 
ing about,  so  glad  was  he  that  she  let  him  go 
with  her. 

But  to  return  to  Bertil  Sveen.  When  he 
entered  the  house,  he  knocked,  as  was  his  wont, 
at  the  office  door,  opened  it  slowly  and  went 
in.  He  found  Fru  Evje  sitting  there  with  her 
hands  in  her  lap ;  but  on  seeing  him  she  started 
up,  saying:  "What  is  it,  Bertil?"  The  man 
at  last  managed  to  tell  her  that  Herr  Evje  had 
sent  for  him,  at  which  Fru  Evje  seemed  very 
much  astonished.  "No,  really?  Did  he  send 
for  you?  Well,  you  must  go  up  to  his  room, 
and  try  knocking." 

She  stood  listening  intently  to  Bertil 's 
heavy  step  upon  the  stairs,  and  then  she  heard 
the  key  really  turned  in  the  lock  up  there,  and 
the  man  admitted.  Why  he  especially  ?  What 
was  the  meaning  of  this?  She  waited  and 
waited  for  Bertil  to  come  down  again ;  but  the 
clock  on  the  wall  struck  once,  and  then  again. 
What  was  going  on  upstairs  ? 

When  Bertil  entered  Erik's  room,  he  was 
met  by  a  close  smell  of  tobacco  and  spirits. 
The  bed  was  unmade,  the  washing-basin  was 


86  Treacherous  Ground 

full  of  dirty  water,  and  Erik  himself  was 
standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room  in  his 
shirt  and  trousers.    He  looked  hard  at  Bertil, 
and  made   no   answer   when  the   man   said 
"Good-evening."    He  looked  at  him  as  if  he 
would  find  out  whether  he  was  really  to  be  his 
rescuer;  for  it  had  to  be  now.     The  house 
/might  tumble  down,  his  mother  go  out  of  her 
/  wits,  and  his  father  turn  in  his  grave,  but  if  • 
/   he  himself  was  to  be  able  to  live,  he  must  re-  / 
gain  a  little  self-respect.    For  the  moment  he 
was  like  a  drowning  man,  who  clutches  at  any- 
thing by  which  he  can  keep  himself  up.  Would 
this  prove  to  be  more  than  a  straw  ? 

"Sit  down,  Bertil!"  he  said  at  last,  and  lay 
down  on  the  sofa.  Bertil  seated  himself  upon 
a  chair  that  seemed  much  too  small  for  so 
big  a  man. 

"Are  you  not  well1?"  he  ventured  to  say. 
Erik  did  not  answer,  but  closed  his  eyes  for  a 
moment  to  collect  his  thoughts.  The  ticking 
of  his  watch,  as  it  lay  on  the  table,  could  be 
heard  in  the  silence.  At  length  he  opened  his 
eyes. 

"How  long  have  you  served  on  the  farm 
now,  Bertil?" 

"It'll  be,  twenty-five  years  this  autumn," 


Treacherous  Ground  87 

answered  the  man,  with  a  look  of  surprise. 
Was  he  going  to  be  dismissed? 

" Shouldn't  you  soon  be  thinking  of  getting 
married?" 

The  middle-aged  bachelor  smiled  an  embar- 
rassed smile,  but  in  a  little  while,  looking  down 
at  his  hands,  answered:  "Oh,  I  shall  soon  be 
too  old  for  that,  I  suppose." 

Erik  could  not  help  smiling  at  the  other's 
embarrassment.  He  knew  that  of  all  things 
their  love  affairs  are  what  this  class  of  men 
most  dislike  to  discuss. 

"Is  it  true,  Bertil,  that  five  years  ago  you 
had  saved  up  enough  money  to  marry  on,  but 
then  lost  it  all  through  your  brother?" 

Bertil  kicked  out  one  leg.  "Ye-hes,  it  was 
so,  worse  luck." 

"And  before  that  again,  you  and  your  sweet- 
heart had  waited  for  ten  years  until  her 
mother  died,  because  the  old  lady  was  so  set 
against  your  marrying  one  another,  and  your 
girl  wouldn't  leave  her,  because  she  was  bed- 
ridden?" 

Bertil 's  big  face  reddened,  but  after  a  while 
he  allowed  that  this,  too,  was  true. 

Erik  began  to  feel  a  strange  pleasure  in  oc- 
cupying himself  with  the  other's  affairs;  and 
now  that  he  was  at  last  going  to  bring  out  his 


88  Treacherous  Ground 

trump  card,  lie  felt  a  warm  glow  as  of  personal 
happiness. 

"I  say,  Bertil,"  he  began.  His  voice 
trembled,  and  he  involuntarily  closed  his  eyes. 
' '  We  owe  you  a  lot  here  at  E vj  e.  If  you  'd  only 
had  fifty  krones  a  year  more  for  the  twenty- 
five  years,  that,  with  the  interest,  would  have 
made  a  nice  sum.  But  now  I  want  to  ask  you 
whether  you'll  take  a  piece  of  uncultivated 
land  instead.  There's  such  a  lot  of  it  up  the 
river,  and  it'll  never  be  cleared  by  me.  Of 
course  you'd  have  the  right  to  fell  timber  and 
take  wood  for  firing  in  the  Evje  forest;  and 
for  the  present  you  could  go  on  living  and 
having  your  meals  here  as  before,  if  you  liked, 
while  you  worked  for  yourself,  that  is  to  say 
after  the  hay-making's  over,  for  we  can't  do 
without  you- while  that's  going  on.  And  if  your 
sweetheart  likes  to  move  over  here  at  once,  you 
can  have  the  wedding  here ;  and  then  when  the 
hay's  in,  we'll  help  you  to  get  your  house  built 
by  the  winter.  What  do  you  say  to  that, 
Bertil  f" 

He  had  spoken  quickly,  as  if  the  words 
burnt  his  mouth ;  but  now  he  opened  his  eyes. 
It  was  said,  and  he  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief, 
like  a  man  who  has  taken  a  f  oolhardly  leap  and 
accomplished  it  safely.  The  thing  was  done, 


Treacherous  Ground  89 

and  could  not  be  undone.  It  was  no  longer  true 
that  he  was  a  coward ;  no,  it  was  not  true. 

A  long  silence  ensued,  while  Bertil  sat 
smiling  like  a  man  who  understands  nothing. 
Was  Erik  ill,  or  drunk,  or  was  he  joking? 
Bertil  got  up,  brushed  his  yellow  hair  over  to 
one  side,  and  looked  as  if  he  did  not  know 
whether  to  go,  or  stay,  or  sit  down  again,  or 
say  something.  The  smile  on  his  face  grew 
broader  and  broader  with  irresolution;  but 
finally  he  slowly  crossed  the  floor  to  the 
window  to  look,  as  was  his  custom  when  he 
wanted  to  think,  across  the  fjord  to  the  cottage 
where  Ingeborg  lived. 

Erik  began  to  be  uneasy.  Why  did  the  man 
not  speak?  And  what  if  he  said  "No,  thank 
you  "  ?  It  would  cut  like  a  knife.  His  feverish 
pulling  of  himself  together  for  this  courageous 
action  would  have  been  done  in  vain. 

At  last  Bertil  cleared  his  throat  and  turned 
towards  him.  "But,"  he  said  hesitatingly, 
"what  does  it  mean  ?  How  much  should  I  have 
to  pay?" 

"Nothing,  Bertil.  You've  paid  enough  dur- 
ing those  twenty-five  years,  I  should  think. 
Perhaps  you'll  get  neighbours  too." 

But  Bertil  still  could  not  feel  sure  that  there 
was  not  something  behind  all  this. 


90  Treacherous  Ground 

" Should  I  be  your  tenant  then?"  he  asked 
doubtfully. 

"No,  no,  confound  it!"  cried  Erik  impa- 
tiently, beginning  to  explain  again  that  Bertil 
was  to  receive  about  ten  acres  of  land  for  his 
long  and  faithful  service.  "But  perhaps  you 
don't  want  it,  Bertil?" 

"Don't  want  it!"  Bertil  laughed. 

Fru  Evje's  patience  was  at  last  rewarded  by 
hearing  the  stairs  creak  ominously  under 
Bertil 's  steps;  and  she  opened  the  door  and 
signed  to  him  to  come  into  the  office.  He  did 
so  slowly,  but  with  a  beaming  face. 

1 '  Well,  Bertil  ?  "  she  said.  She  did  not  need 
to  say  any  more,  for  the  man  came  up  to  her 
with  his  great  hand  outstretched,  and  a  smile 
on  one  side  of  his  face. 

"I  suppose  I  have  to  thank  you,  too,  for 
this,"  he  said.  "But  it's  almost  too  much. 
God  bless  you!" 

"Why,  what  is  it,  Bertil?" 

In  reply,  the  man  told  her  hesitatingly  and 
a  little  bashfully  of  the  gift  he  had  received. 

"Erik's  been  giving  him  brandy!"  thought 
Fru  Evje.  "Indeed,  Bertil,"  she  said  aloud, 
looking  hard  at  him,  "you've  got  both  land 
and  a  house,  did  you  say?" 

"Ten  acres  of  land  up  the  valley,"  Bertil 


Treacherous  Ground  91 

went  on,  "and  not  a  farthing  to  pay  for  it !  Did 
you  ever  hear  anything  like  it?  But  you 
know  about  it,  I  suppose." 

"Oh  yes,  I  know  about  it,"  she  said,  with  a 
strange  laugh.  She  would  have  liked  to  box 
the  man's  ears.  "But  sit  down,  Bertil,  and 
tell  me  a  little  about  it." 

When  at  last  the  man  left  her,  she  had  to 
open  the  window  to  get  some  air;  and  then 
she  sat  on  as  she  had  done  before,  with  her 
hands  in  her  lap,  and  staring  helplessly  at  the 
floor. 

It  was  near  midnight,  and  Erik  was  still 
walking  up  and  down  in  the  same  scanty  at- 
tire, quite  confused  with  what  had  happened. 
Alas,  during  the  last  few  days,  he  had  bee$  in 
a  dizzy  world  of  mist,  but  now  he  had  perhaps 
found  a  firm  foothold  again.  "Is  it  true?"  he 
asked  himself  again  and  again.  "Did  I  really 
manage  it  ?  Have  I  really  succeeded  in  rescu- 
ing a  little  of  myself  again?" 

He  felt  like  a  man  benumbed  with  cold,  who 
has  at  last  lighted  a  little  fire  and  is  stretching 
out  his  stiff  hands  over  it.  And  the  more  he 
thought  about  Bertil  Sveen's  happiness,  the 
higher  this  fire  rose  and  the  warmer  he  felt. 
"Now  I  suppose  he's  sitting  and  making  up 
some  sort  of  a  letter  to  her, ' '  he  thought.  t  'And 


92  Treacherous  Ground 

when  she's  read  it,  she'll  perhaps  turn  up  her 
sleeves  and  try  to  write  some  sort  of  answer. " 
And  he  laughed. 

He  opened  the  window  and  leaned  out  in 
the  fresh  night  air.  The  grass  in  the  uncut 
meadows  was  heavy  with  the  dew,  and  down 
in  the  reddish  waters  of  the  fjord  the  dark 
pine-clad  hills,  green  slopes  and  sleeping  farm- 
steads on  the  opposite  shore  were  reflected. 
Farther  still  the  sky  itself  had  melted  into  the 
world  below,  while  ruddy,  sunwarmed  clouds 
rose  out  of  a  far-off  blue  abyss;  and  above  it 
all  a  solitary  sea-bird  was  sailing  in  towards 
the  land. 

But  was  not  that  Bertil  going  down  the  hill 
towards  the  water,  and  so  late  f  He  was  surely 

never  going  to Yes,  he  was  putting  his 

shoulder  to  a  boat  and  pushing  it  into  the 
water.  In  the  very  middle  of  the  hay-making 
season  he  was  giving  up  his  night  and  rest  to 
bring  the  news  to  Ingeborg  himself !  Now  he 
was  rowing  out  over  the  smooth  red  water, 
dipping  his  oars  into  golden  clouds. 

"He  shall  sleep  until  midday  to-morrow, " 
thought  Erik. 

As  he  was  preparing  to  go  to  bed,  and  had 
just  filled  a  tumbler  with  whiskey,  Erik 
seemed  to  wake  up.  He  suddenly  felt  as  if 


Treacherous  Ground  93 

some  one  had  taken  hold  of  his  arm,  and  he 
involuntarily  put  down  the  glass  and  looked 
about  him.  What  was  it?  Well,  perhaps  he 
would  be  able  to  sleep  without  it  to-night.  He 
thought  of  those  two  who  would  bless  him  to- 
night, and  felt  inclined  to  throw  the  glass  out 
of  the  window.  Finally  he  placed  it  on  the 
table  by  his  bedside,  and  got  into  bed ;  but  he 
lay  turning  restlessly  this  way  and  that,  tor- 
tured with  the  desire  for  the  accursed  liquid. 
As  long  as  he  could  keep  his  thoughts  on  Bertil 
and  Ingeborg,  it  was  all  right ;  but  what  would 
happen  to-morrow?  How  would  he  meet  his 
mother  after  this  ?  Would  he  be  able  to  go  on 

as  he  had  planned  or And  almost  before 

he  knew  what  he  was  about,  he  had  started  up 
and  emptied  the  glass  in  two  or  three  gulps. 
Then  he  was  soon  lying  in  the  same  dizzy  mist, 
and  at  the  foot  of  his  bed  stood,  he  thought, 
Bertil  and  Ingeborg,  blessing  him,  but  also 
saying  that  he  was  far  too  good  to  drink  like 
that. 

Is  it  not  too  late  to  leave  off?  Can  he  still 
be  saved?  "Help  me!"  he  groaned,  clasping 
his  hands  and  stretching  them  out  towards 
the  good  action  he  had  just  done.  "Help  me, 
since  there  is  no  God !" 

It  was  past  midnight,  and  everything  was 


94  Treacherous  Ground 

still  on  land  and  sea.  Up  on  the  hill,  how- 
ever, Lars  Brovold  was  lying  under  a  tree, 
whistling  up  to  the  sky.  He  had  taken  the 
short  cut  home  through  the  wood,  for  he  was 
far  too  happy  to  wish  to  meet  anyone.  He  had 
been  going  to  sleep  at  his  parents'  that  night, 
in  the  little  grey  fisherman's  cottage  on  the 
headland ;  but  then  he  had  happened  to  throw 
himself  down  under  a  fir-tree  to  sing  a  song 
and  to  think  a  little,  and  it  was  so  nice  to  lie 
there.  The  pine-needles  under  him  were  so 
warm,  and  all  the  birds  in  the  forest  were 
silent.  He  was  thinking  of  the  time  when  he 
was  a  boy  and  minded  goats  on  the  mountains, 
and  played  on  a  horn,  and  how  he  would  often 
gather  up  everything  that  played  and  sang 
in  his  mind  into  a  kind  of  old  wordless  song 
and  send  it  far  out  through  the  horn,  over  the 
distant  plateaux. 

"Oh,  doodeli  doo! 
Oh,  doodeli  doo! 
Oil,  doodeli,  doodeli  doo!" 

It  was  true  he  lay  here  whistling,  but  in  his 
fancy  he  was  blowing  a  horn ;  and  he  gathered 
it  all  together — the  light  night,  the  sunny- 
clouded  sky,  the  red  fjord,  Kristina's  having 
been  so  nice  to  him  that  day,  and  his  going  to 


Treacherous  Ground  95 

the  military  college  and  coming  home  at 
Christmas  in  uniform,  ha  ha! — all  together 
into  the  old  wordless  song,  which  he  blew 
into  the  horn  and  far  away  into  the  wide  sky 
and  over  the  distant  plateaux. 

"Oh,  doodeli  doo! 
Oh,  doodeli  doo! 
Oh,  doodeli,  doodeli  doo!" 

When  at  last  he  got  up  from  the  ground,  the 
sky  behind  the  hills  in  the  east  was  flaming 
blood-red.  It  was  morning.  It  was  too  late 
to  go  to  bed  now,  but  at  any  rate  he  could  go 
down  to  his  parents'  cottage,  and  take  a  scythe 
and  mow  for  an  hour  before  he  went  up  to 
Evje.  It  would  make  his  father  wonder  who 
had  helped  him  with  his  mowing  in  the  night. 


Chapter  VI 

Waking  the  next  morning  was  a  very  different 
thing  to  Erik  from  what  it  had  been  before. 
He  did  not  lie  on,  dreading  having  to  get  up 
and  begin  a  painful  activity.  To-day  it  seemed 
as  if  something  particularly  nice  and  bright 
were  waiting  for  him ;  so  he  made  haste  to  get 
up,  and  walked  about  humming  while  he 
dressed.  Everything  seemed  much  easier  and 
brighter  than  it  had  done  for  a  long  time ;  and 
he  felt  sure  that  a  new  time  was  beginning  for 
him.  The  action,  to  perform  which  he  had 
pulled  himself  together  yesterday,  really  felt 
like  something  secure  to  hold  fast  to;  and, 
having  taken  the  first  step,  he  would  surely  be 
able  to  go  on. 

When  he  entered  the  dining-room,  his 
mother  was  already  seated  at  the  breakfast- 
table.  She  looked  up  with  a  frightened  ex- 
pression, and  returned  an  almost  inaudible  an- 
swer to  his  greeting;  but  he  was  so  taken  up 

96 


Treacherous  Ground  97 

with  the  thought  of  defending  what  had  hap- 
pened yesterday,  and  of  at  last  asserting  his 
will  beside  hers,  that  he  quite  forgot  to  be 
ashamed  of  his  intoxication. 

"Will  the  storm  soon  burst?"  he  thought, 
when  he  had  seated  himself  at  the  table,  and 
she  had  poured  out  his  coffee.  They  both  tried 
to  say  something,  but  the  attempts  were  un- 
successful It  hurt  him  to  see  how  worn  she 
looked,  and  how  little  appetite  she  had;  and 
at  last  he  took  her  hand  and  kissed  it,  saying, 
with  a  little  guilty  smile:  "Forgive  me, 
mother!" 

It  needed  only  this  to  make  Fru  Evje  burst 
into  tears;  but  when  she  had  calmed  down  a 
little,  he  went  on  courageously:  "Just  think! 
Bertil  and  Ingeborg  can  marry  at  last." 

She  gave  him  another  frightened  look.  She 
had  hoped  that  what  he  had  done  yesterday 
had  been  done  in  a  state  of  intoxication,  and 
that  it  could  be  undone ;  and  she  could  hardly 
believe  her  own  ears  when  he  went  on:  "It 
surely  can't  be  right,  mother,  for  me  to  keep 
all  that  uncultivated  land,  while  men  like 
Bertil  haven't  as  much  as  a  plot  of  ground  big 
enough  to  build  a  cottage  upon?" 

Fru  Evje  only  shook  her  head,  and  looked 
straight  before  her.  This  was  getting  worse 


98  Treacherous  Ground 

and  worse.  She  did  not  dare  to  begin  to  speak 
about  it,  for  she  felt  that  if  she  did  there  would 
be  a  perfect  storm. 

To-day  Erik  went  about  his  usual  occupa- 
tions, and  thought  he  had  not  had  such  a 
pleasant  day  since  he  came  home.  The  farm 
labourers  were  industrious,  and  looked  at  him 
so  kindly;  and  he  found  himself  joking  with 
the  girls  who  were  raking.  There  was  a  great 
deal  of  hay  at  Evje  this  year,  and  the  weather 
had  been  all  that  could  be  desired;  timber 
prices  had  risen,  and  to-day  he  had  the  right 
to  rejoice  over  all  this ;  he  even  began  to  think 
of  enlarging  the  mill,  so  that  that  might  be- 
come a  larger  business.  Why,  he  felt  he  could 
be  the  gayest  and  the  most  capable  of  them  all, 
if  only  he  could  get  these  secret  wounds  healed, 
that  never  gave  him  any  rest !  What  had  hap- 
pened yesterday  really  felt  like  a  cooling 
plaster,  but  it  was  not  enough. 

Erik  no  longer  tried  to  account  to  himself 
for  the  importance  that  his  plans  about  the 
labourers'  holdings  had  acquired  for  him,  nor 
why  the  fate  of  the  girl  Petra  made  him  per- 
sonally ashamed.  He  only  had  an  indistinct 
feeling  that  he  silenced  that  confounded  Mog- 
stad  when  he  now  forced  himself  to  do  some- 
thing in  the  matter. 


Treacherous  Ground  99 

It  was  after  supper  that  he  went  into  the 
men's  quarters,  and  asked  for  Lars  Brovold; 
and,  hearing  that  the  young  fellow  was  up  in 
his  little  attic  mending  shoes,  he  went  straight 
up  to  him. 

Lars  was  sitting  humming  to  himself  while 
he  pegged  the  sole  of  a  shoe;  and  he  was  ut- 
terly confused  when  no  less  a  person  than 
Herr  Evje  entered.  Erik  sat  down  on  a  chest 
against  the  wall,  lighted  his  pipe,  and  began  to 
talk  about  various  things.  He  was  a  little  em- 
barrassed on  account  of  what  he  had  come  to 
say,  for  it  was  like  sitting  in  judgment  on  him- 
self. 

"Well,  Lars?"  he  said  at  last.  "I  hear 
you're  a  favourite  with  the  girls!" 

The  young  fellow  broke  into  a  laugh.  He 
was  thinking  of  Kristina,  whom  he  yester- 
day  

"What  have  you  thought  about  for  your 
future,  Lars?" 

Lars  hammered  away  at  his  shoe-sole  for 
a  little  before  he  ventured  to  say,  without 
looking  up:  "What  do  you  think  about  the 
military  college?" 

"He  wants  to  run  away  from  her,"  thought 
Erik,  "and  to  town,  as  I  did  that  time."  And 
town !  To  Erik  it  was  now  the  place  where  he 


100  Treacherous  Ground 

had  wasted  the  years  of  his  youth,  until  one 
day  he  found  himself  drifting  along  with  a 
bottle  as  his  only  comforter. 

"You're  not  thinking  of  going  to  town, 
Lars,  are  you?"  And  Erik  began  to  explain 
what  awaited  a  healthy  country  lad  in  those 
accursed  towns.  He  had  tried  it  himself,  and 
he  would  rather  never  set  foot  in  a  town  again. 

Lars  looked  up  in  alarm.  He  had  never 
thought  of  that ;  but  at  any  rate  it  was  nice  of 
a  man  like  Evje  to  sit  there  and  talk  in  such 
a  friendly  way  with  him. 

Soon,  however,  Erik  began  to  talk  of  how 
much  a  girl  like  Petra  was  to  be  pitied;  and 
he  had  not  said  many  words  before  his  voice 
showed  how  much  he  was  moved.  He  was  soon 
so  deep  in  painful  memories  of  himself  and 
Olina,  and  so  filled  with  a  desire  to  make  up 
for  it  again,  that  Lars,  as  he  sat  there,  actually 
seemed  to  be  himself  when  he  was  twenty. 

Lars  had  flushed  a  deep  red.  If  it  had  been 
any  one  els^e  who  had  come  to  him  and  sug- 
gested that  he  should  marry  Petra,  that 
person  would  have  gone  head  first  out  of  the 
window;  but  this  was  different.  There  was 
no  admonishing,  no  upbraiding,  no  preaching ; 
it  was  all  kindness,  and  it  was  Herr  Evje  him- 
self who  condescended  to  sit  here  and  talk 


Treacherous  Ground  101 

quietly  to  him,  as  if  he  had  been  his  own 
brother. 

"I'm  sure  Petra's  both  a  clever  and  a  good- 
natured  girl, ' '  said  Erik  at  last.  He  felt  as  if 
he  were  saving  a  few  poor  words  of  praise 
about  some  one  else. 

Lars  hammered  a  peg  into  the  sole.  He 
could  not  deny  it;  Petra  was  both  good- 
natured  and  clever,  especially  now  when  Herr 
Evje  himself  was  sitting  and  praising  her  so. 

"IVe  known  a  case  like  this  once  before," 
continued  Erik,  almost  as  if  it  were  a  painful 
confession ; ' '  and  I  can  tell  you  one  thing,  and 
that  is  that  the  man  who  was  the  father  of  the 
child  hardly  had  another  happy  day." 

Lars  threw  another  alarmed  glance  at  Erik. 
He  had  not  thought  of  that  either — perhaps 
never  having  another  happy  day ! 

Erik  then  began  to  speak  of  what  he  would 
do  to  help  him  to  marry  Petra.  Lars  sat  with 
the  shoe  in  one  hand  and  the  awl  in  the  other, 
looking  towards  the  window.  Land,  a  house — 
like  Bertil!  He,  the  son  of  a  farm  labourer, 
was  to  become  a  freeholder ! 

But  the  girl  with  the  supple  waist  and  the 
most  beautiful  voice  in  the  church  ?  Himself 
in  uniform,  at  Christmas  ?  Ah  no !  That  was 
all  nonsense. 


102  Treacherous  Ground 

Erik  spoke  so  earnestly,  and  with  such 
warmth  in  his  voice,  that  it  reminded  Lars 
how  he  had  once  been  begged  to  go  out  to  sea 
one  stormy  night  to  rescue  some  men  who  were 
clinging  to  the  keel  of  an  upturned  boat. 
Should  he  be  brave  this  time  too  ? 

When  at  length  Erik  went  down,  he  passed 
through  the  kitchen,  where  Petra  was  standing 
washing-up  cups.  The  tall,  red-haired  girl  was 
ready  to  sink  through  the  floor  with  shame  at 
being  seen  in  her  present  condition  by  Herr 
Evje ;  but  Erik  patted  her  on  the  shoulder  and 
said:  ''Accept  my  congratulations,  Petra!" 

"What?"  she  exclaimed,  turning  round; 
for  she  thought  this  must  either  be  a  sneer  or 
a  jest. 

"Oh,  you  just  wait  until  Lars  tells  you!" 
he  said,  laughing,  and  passed  on. 

Out  of  doors  the  evening  was  calm  and 
cloudy,  with  the  fjord  as  smooth  and  grey  as 
the  sky.  Erik  had  no  desire  to  go  to  bed  yet, 
and  sauntered  down  towards  the  garden  gate 
with  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 

To-morrow  it  would  be  still  easier  to  go 
about  here  than  to-day.  It  was  as  though  some 
of  a  torturing  debt  had  been  paid,  and  the 
thought  of  Olina  would  no  longer  be  so  oppres- 
sively painful. 


Treacherous  Ground  103 

Down  in  the  garden  he  stood  and  looked  at 
the  white  house,  which  needed  painting.  He 
was  going  to  make  things  look  nice  at  Evje 
now. 

Up  in  the  attic  stood  Lars  Brovold,  leaning 
against  the  wall  and  staring  down  at  the  floor. 
What  had  happened?  He  had  made  up  his 
mind  to  go  and  meet  Kristina  again  next  Sat- 
urday evening,  but  he  only  now  began  to 
realise  that  he  could  not  after  what  had  hap- 
pened. That  was  all  over  now,  over  for  al- 
ways; and  instead — there  was  Petra. 

In  a  dazed  way  he  put  on  his  jacket,  and 
went  down  the  hill.  He  must  go  home  to  his 
parents,  and  consult  them  about  this. 

When  he  came  up  again  about  midnight,  he 
was  cahner.  His  parents'  delight  over  what 
had  happened  had  infected  him  too.  He,  who 
had  hitherto  not  been  considered  quite  grown 
up,  had  suddenly  become  a  landowner,  had 
been  put  on  the  same  footing  as  the  head 
man,  Bertil,  who  was  given  the  land  as  a  re- 
ward for  long  and  faithful  service.  Lars 
could  not  help  thinking  of  Knut  Rabben;  if 
that  fellow  really  got  Kristina  after  all,  what 
in  the  world  would  those  two  have  to  marry 
upon? 

When  he  came  up  to  the  servants'  quarters, 


104  Treacherous  Growid 

he  stole  softly  into  the  kitchen  attic,  where 
Petra  slept  alone.  She  woke  and  started  up 
in  bed ;  and  when  she  saw  it  was  Lars,  who  had 
been  so  rude  to  her  of  late,  she  told  him  to  go. 
What  did  he  want  there  f  Should  she  have 
to  call  for  help  T 

At  last  he  got  her  to  be  quiet  enough  to  hear 
what  he  had  to  say.  It  was  a  little  difficult  to 
get  out  a  proposal ;  but  at  any  rate  it  was  clear 
enough  that  they  together  had  got  land  and  a 
house. 

Petra  lay  silent,  looking  up  at  the  ceiling, 
which  was  dotted  with  flies.  Then  she  turned 
towards  the  little  red-haired  boy,  who  lay  be- 
side her,  and  tucked  the  clothes  in  better  at  his 
back,  as  if  it  were  a  little  caress,  and  once  more 
lay  looking  up  at  the  ceiling.  At  last  she  said 
coldly:  "I  don't  believe  it,  and  wouldn't  if  it 
were  the  priest  himself  who  said  it." 

"Wait  till  to-morrow  then,  you  silly,  and 
then  you'll  hear  it." 

Neither  of  them  had  ever  dreamt  that  they 
would  become  man  and  wife.  But  now  the 
minds  of  both  were  filled  with  the  thought  of 
this  unexpected  wealth  that  had  suddenly 
brought  them  together.  It  raised  them  both 
out  of  the  same  poverty,  and  provided  for 
their  future. 


Treacherous   Ground  105 

He  was  a  little  embarrassed,  and  could  not 
bring  himself  even  to  stroke  her  cheek;  but, 
as  he  rose  to  go,  she  exclaimed  anxiously,  as 
if  she  were  suddenly  going  to  lose  both  him 
and  the  land:  "Are  you  going  to  leave  me, 
Lars?"  It  sounded  as  if  she  were  already  his 
careful  wife,  who  called  him  home  to  his  meals, 
up  there  on  their  land. 

Well,  he  would  stay  a  little  longer.  He  sat 
down  again  on  the  side-board  of  the  bed,  and 
felt  with  his  hand  over  the  skin  bedcover  until 
he  found  the  boy 's  head.  ' '  Poor  little  fellow ! ' ' 
he  said.  *  *  I  shall  be  waking  himT ' ' 

This  was  more  than  Petra  could  bear.  She 
was  so  touched  at  Lars's  beginning  to  be  kind 
to  her  poor  boy,  that  she  began  to  cry.  This 
made  Lars  think  that  there  was  no  help  for  it, 
and  he  must  begin  to  show  her  a  little  kindness 
too.  He  noticed  that  she  had  happened  to 
move  closer  up  to  the  wall,  and,  as  they  had 
much  to  talk  about  now,  he  might  just  as  well 
lie  down  beside  her. 

That  evening  Erik  fought  another  fight 
against  that  miserable  glass.  Once  more,  from 
habit,  he  had  filled  it  when  he  was  going  to 
get  into  bed;  and  once  more  it  seemed  as  if 
some  one  took  hold  of  his  arm,  so  that  he  awoke 


106  Treacherous  Groimd 

to  what  lie  was  doing  just  as  he  was  about  to 
put  it  to  his  lips. 

He  mastered  himself  sufficiently  to  put  it 
down  on  the  table,  and  then  began  to  walk  up 
and  down,  barefoot,  upon  the  cool  floor.  "  Why 
in  the  world  should  I  empty  that  stuff  into  my- 
self ?"  he  thought  despairingly.  It  was  nec- 
essary perhaps  during  that  time  when  he  had 
been  afraid  of  the  night,  and  when  it  tortured 
him  to  stand  alone  and  face  the  ruin  he  had 
wrought;  but  was  it  not  different  now? 

Involuntarily  his  thoughts  turn  to  the 
people  he  has  made  happy,  and  who  now  bless 
him.  After  this  they  would  be  with  him  like 
a  good  genie,  who  took  his  part.  Yes,  of  course 
it  was  different  now  from  what  it  had  been. 

But  when  at  last  he  was  comfortably  under 
the  clothes,  Mogstad  came  again,  that  accursed 
fixed  idea  that  he  has  not  yet  been  able  to  over- 
come, and  he  stands  up  on  a  chair,  pointing 
and  saying:  "All  this  about  Petra  is  only  beg- 
ging the  question.  Why  do  you  still  keep  out 
of  Peter  Troen's  way?  Have  you  courage 
enough  to  acknowledge  before  all  the  world,  so 
that  Froken  Rud  shall  hear  it,  your  son,  and 
give  him  and  his  mother  a  house  and  land? 
Perhaps  you'll  meet  her  on  the  pier  when  she 
comes?  Ha  ha!  Ah  no!  I  know  you,  my 


Treacherous  Ground  107 

friend.  You  are,  and  always  will  be,  a  scoun- 
drel." 

And  this  man  on  the  chair  goes  on  talking 
so  long  that  Erik  suddenly  starts  up,  seizes  the 
glass,  which  is  still  standing  beside  him,  and 
empties  it  greedily. 

It  is  of  no  use !  All  that  he  has  done  is  of 
no  use! 

Meanwhile,  in  another  room,  lay  Fru  Evje 
with  her  head  buried  in  her  pillows,  praying. 
For  how  was  this  going  to  end?  Alas,  when 
a  few  days  ago  she  thanked  and  praised  God 
because  the  farm  was  at  last  saved  for  the 
family,  she  did  not  dream  that  Erik  would  no 
sooner  have  his  hand  on  the  property  than  he 
began  to  waste  it.  All  this  about  Lars  and 
Petra  had  come  to  her  ears  this  evening,  and 
it  had  fallen  like  the  stroke  of  an  axe  upon  her 
head.  What  would  be  the  next  thing  ?  Within 

a  year Ah  no,  she  dared  not  think  the 

thought  out !  Something  must  be  done  before  it 
was  too  late,  but  what  ?  As  to  reasoning  with 
Erik,  she  knew  a  little  about  the  use  of  that 
from  experience.  But  what  then?  She 
weighed  and  tested  every  expedient,  until  she 
found  herself  gazing  into  one  terrible  one — 
namely,  that  of  placing  him  under  guardian- 


108  Treacherous  Ground 

ship.  "Help  me,  O  God,  for  Christ's  sake!" 
she  moaned,  pressing  her  hands  together. 

Two  or  three  days  after  this,  when  she  was 
sitting  in  the  office,  trying  to  keep  her  thoughts 
upon  an  account-book,  she  started  as  Erik  en- 
tered. What  now? 

He  came  in  with  an  unwonted  decision,  with 
a  light,  firm  tread,  and  seated  himself  at  the 
other  side  of  the  writing-table.  "Mother,"  he 
began,  looking  first  at  her  and  then  beyond, 
out  of  the  window,  "if  we  two  are  to  under- 
stand one  another  properly,  there's  a  little  ac- 
count between  us  that  I  think  we'd  better 
settle  at  once.  No,  no,  don't  look  so  fright- 
ened! it's  nothing  very  serious.  But,  hon- 
estly, why  didn't  you  tell  me  that  my  son  was 
dead?" 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then  Fru  Evje  took 
off  her  spectacles,  and  laid  them  upon  the  ac- 
count-book. "I  was  a  little  afraid  of  ap- 
proaching those  subjects,"  she  began  in  a 
trembling  voice.  "I  meant  no  harm  by  it, 
Erik!"  They  looked  at  one  another  with  sad 
eyes. 

"Well,  our  views  on  that  matter  are  so  dif- 
ferent, mother,  and  I'm  sure  you  and  father 
acted  in  the  way  you  thought  right,  when  you 
prevented  me  from  marrying  Olina.  But  now 


Treacherous  Ground  109 

I  think  the  time  has  come  when  my  view  of  the 
matter  and  my  conscience  have  something  to 
say.  What  we  do  wrong  can't  be  done  quite 
over  again;  but  to-day  I've  tried  to  right  in 
some  measure  a  wrong  that  all  these  years  has 
tormented  me  more  than  anyone's  had  an  idea 
of." 

He  sighed,  and  looked  down  at  his  hands 
that  were  clasped  over  his  knee.  In  a  little 
while  Fru  Evje  asked  him  in  a  quivering  voice 
what  he  had  done.  She  was  prepared  for  an- 
other blow  on  the  head.  And  Erik  told  her 
that  he  had  given  Peter  Troen  land  and  a 
house  up  the  valley  beside  Bertil  and  Lars; 
and  when  Olina  came  out  of  prison,  as  she 
would  soon  do,  she  should  live  with  her  father, 
and  be  his  sole  heir.  He  would  do  what  he 
could  to  regain  her  the  esteem  of  her  neigh- 
bours ;  and  if  she  had  a  farm  of  her  own,  she 
would  be  sure  to  get  married  too. 

"I  don't  mind  saying,  mother,  that  this  was 
a  bitter  pill  for  me  to  swallow.  In  the  first 
place  I  discovered  that,  in  spite  of  everything, 
I  was  a  big  enough  man  not  to  like  humbling 
myself  before  a  simple  labourer  like  Peter 
Troen.  It  was  hard  to  go  to  him.  It  was  ter- 
rible to  ask  him  about  my  son.  It  was  still 
worse  to  ask  after  Olina,  I  felt  as  if  I  were 


110  Treacherous  Ground 

stopping  and  begging  this  man's  pardon. 
When  he  told  me  that  Olina  was  thinking  of 
America,  I  almost  cried  out  with  relief,  but 
became  aware  that  this  was  another  piece  of 
cowardice.  No,  she  shall  come  here!  I  tell 
you,  mother,  I'll  look  her  in  the  face,  I'll  go  to 
her  one  day  and  beg  her  forgiveness.  Do  you 
think  it's  nice  giving  away  land  belonging  to 
the  farm  ?  No,  indeed,  it  feels  like  amputating 
a  finger  each  time ;  but  it  must  be  done,  so  that 
I  can  be  happy  with  you,  and  glad  to  be  the 
owner  of  all  this.  These  days  have  been  a 
severe  test  of  character,  and  you  don't  know 
how  glad  I  am  that  I've  stood  it.  And  now 
there's  just  one  thing  more.  Will  you  come 
up  with  me  to  my  room  ?" 

As  he  rose,  he  passed  his  hand  across  his 
forehead,  and  looked  almost  radiantly  at  her. 
She  was  sitting  with  her  hands  before  her 
face;  and,  when  she  mechanically  raised  her 
head,  and  slowly  rose  to  her  feet,  everything 
seemed  to  be  going  round. 

"  What  was  I  to  do  ?"  she  stammered,  taking 
hold  of  the  back  of  a  chair  for  support. 

"I  wanted  you  to  come  up  with  me  to  my 
room  for  a  moment,"  he  repeated.    He  was  • 
already  leading  the  way,  and  she  followed. 
She  had  to  cling  to  the  door  for  a  second  be- 
fore she  could  go  on. 


Treacherous  Ground  111 

He  was  already  on  the  stairs ;  and  when  at 
last  she  entered  his  room,  he  was  opening  a 
trunk. 

"Come  here,  mother  1" 

Fru  Evje  had  to  lean  for  support  against 
the  wall  when  she  saw  at  the  bottom  of  the 
trunk  a  whole  row  of  bottles. 

"When  you  have  nothing  to  live  for, 
mother,  no  God  and  no  ideal,  that  is  what  you 
have  recourse  to.  But  now  I  don't  need  it  any 
longer,  so  will  you  take  the  bottles  into  your 
keeping,  and  lock  them  up  and  keep  the  key; 
for  I  don't  need  them  any  more." 

Fru  Evje  stood  motionless,  staring  at  the 
bottles.  She  was  so  confused  with  Erik's  hav- 
ing again  wasted  some  of  the  property  that 
she  could  not  quite  understand  this.  She 
stood  there,  breathing  hard  and  holding  her 
hand  to  her  head.  "I  don't  understand  a  bit 
of  it,  Erik,"  she  whispered  at  last.  "Good 

God.  I — I "  and  suddenly  she  sank  on  to 

a  chair,  and  burst  into  a  violent  fit  of  weeping. 

It  was  some  time  before  she  had  calmed 
down  sufficiently  to  be  able  to  get  up ;  and  then, 
quite  mechanically,  she  fetched  a  basket  from 
an  attic,  placed  the  bottles  in  it,  and  went 
downstairs. 

Erik  had  been  prepared  for  her  taking  all 


112  Treacherous  Ground 

this  to  heart.  There  was  no  help  for  it,  and 
now  the  matter  was  brought  to  a  conclusion. 
He  remained  standing  at  the  open  window, 
breathing  with  a  sense  of  freedom.  He  could 
now  hold  up  his  head  and  look  every  one  in  the 
face.  He  felt  as  if,  during  the  last  few  days, 
he  had  been  laboriously,  bit  by  bit,  saving  his 
soul. 


BOOK  II 


Chapter  I 


Inga  Bud  lived  very  quietly  at  home  with  her 
parents  this  summer.  Although  she  had  now 
regained  her  peace  of  mind  after  the  great 
crisis  of  the  previous  year,  she  was  not  what 
she  had  been  at  her  best.  As  usual  during  the 
holidays,  young  men  had  come  to  the  neigh- 
bourhood, and  there  had  been  dances  and  other 
festivities.  Inga  would  accept  the  invitations 
too,  but  when  she  had  helped  to  dress  her 
younger  sisters,  it  always  ended  in  her  finding 
an  excuse  for  herself;  and  when  they  set  off, 
she  watched  them  go  with  a  sad  smile.  There 
were  boating  expeditions  out  to  the  islands  in 
the  light  nights,  when  bonfires  were  lighted 
and  sounds  of  laughter  and  singing  filled  the 
air;  and  there  were  expeditions  to  the  moun- 
tains and  saeters,  with  baskets  full  of  pro- 
visions and  wine,  which  Inga  had  prepared; 
but  some  one  had  to  be  at  home,  and  she  always 
contrived  that  it  should  be  she. 

115 


116  Treacherous  Ground 

To  anyone  who  expects  nothing  more  from 
the  future,  bright  -memories  become  even 
brighter  than  before.  The  strange  thing  was 
that  when  Inga's  thoughts  went  back  to  those 
never-to-be-forgotten  years  in  the  capital, 
when  the  whole  world  seemed  like  a  ballroom 
full  of  music  and  admiring  eyes,  she  would 
often  think  of  Erik  Evje  too,  whom  in  those 
days  she  could  afford  to  make  fun  of.  "I 
wonder,"  she  thought,  "whether  I  was  not  to 
blame  for  things  turning  out  as  they  did  with 
him." 

She  did  not  even  notice  herself  that,  while 
she  sat  plying  her  needle  and  looking  back  at 
her  vanished  happiness,  she  was  filled  at  the 
same  time  with  a  growing  sympathy  for  the 
man  to  whom  she  had  then  been  so  unmerciful. 

After  Herr  Rein  had  gone  away,  she  kept 
remembering  his  dark  prophecy  regarding 
Erik's  labourers'  holdings.  She  soon  found 
out  that  she  was  the  only  person  who  knew 
anything  about  it.  Herr  Rein  must  have  had 
other  things  to  think  about  before  he  left,  and 
Inga  was  glad  of  this  in  a  way,  though  at  the 
same  time  she  felt  a  terrible  responsibility. 
Should  she  warn  Erik  or  not  ? 

It  was  of  no  use  for  her  to  say  to  herself 
over  and  over  again  that  Rein  might  have 


Treacherous  Ground  117 

made  a  mistake ;  she  could  not  get  away  from 
the  thought  that  Erik's  plan  about  labourers' 
holdings  might  possibly  end  in  a  horrible  ca- 
tastrophe. 

When  Erik  and  his  mother  had  called,  she 
had  really  been  at  home,  but  she  had  not  felt 
able  to  meet  him  for  fear  of  hearing  him  talk 
about  this  fateful  idea  of  his. 

Reports  of  his  shutting  himself  up  in  his 
room  for  days  together  to  drink,  also  found 
their  way  to  the  doctor's  house,  and  it  was  not 
exactly  praise  of  him  that  she  had  to  listen  to 
on  all  sides;  but  she  bowed  her  head  and 
thought:  "That  is  perhaps  my  fault  again; 
perhaps  I  encouraged  him,  only  to  hide  myself 
again. " 

It  made  a  stir  in  the  district  when  a  report 
circulated  that  Erik  had  really  begun  to  carry 
out  his  plan  about  labourers'  holdings.  The 
large  landowners  declared  that  the  labourers 
in  the  district  were  spoiled  enough  already, 
and  others  were  delighted  at  the  thought  of 
the  sleepless  nights  that  the  avaricious  Fru 
Evje  must  now  be  passing;  but  every  one 
prophesied  that  the  wealth  of  Evje  would  soon 
be  a  thing  of  the  past. 

Inga  often  felt  a  great  desire  to  speak  in 
defence  of  Erik.  Even  if  it  were  true  that  he 


118  Treacherous  Ground 

was  addicted  to  drinking,  this,  at  any  rate, 
was  not  wrong.  She  was  silent,  however,  be- 
cause Rein's  prophecy  was  always  sounding 
in  her  ears. 

The  fact  that  Erik,  in  spite  of  his  good  in- 
tentions, was  perhaps  doing  something  dread- 
ful, surrounded  him,  in  Inga's  eyes,  with  a 
tragic  light,  and  aroused  in  her  a  desire  to 
help. 

One  evening,  as  she  lay  in  bed,  she  folded 
her  hands  and  prayed  earnestly  to  God  that 
Erik  Evje  might  still  be  successful  in  this 
thing,  because  the  thought  was  a  fine  one. 

But  when  Eein  came  back  from  abroad  next 
year,  what  then?  Then  perhaps  Erik's  act 
would  prove  to  have  been  in  vain,  and  the  poor 
men  have  done  the  clearing  and  building  all 
to  no  purpose. 

There  was  no  one  who  could  prevent  this 
except  herself,  and  so  one  day  she  sat  down 
and  wrote  a  letter  to  Erik.  But,  when  she  was 
about  to  sign  her  name,  she  felt  it  quite  im- 
possible, for  it  reminded  her  too  much  of  an- 
other letter  she  had  once  sent  him,  and  which 
had  probably  made  him  unhappy  for  many 
years.  Should  she  do  it  again  I 

It  would  really  be  better  to  go  and  speak  to 
him  herself ;  and  in  order  to  convince  him  that 


Treacherous  Ground  119 

she  meant  it  for  his  good,  she  would Yes, 

what  was  it  she  would  do  ? 

Well,  she  need  not  make  that  clear  to  her- 
self just  now;  but  one  Sunday  evening,  when 
she  walked  down  the  road  towards  Evje,  it  was 
almost  as  if  she  were  going  to  offer  herself  to 
him. 

She  stopped  often  and  hesitated,  as  if  she 
would  have  liked  to  turn  round,  She  met 
people  she  knew,  but  was  scarcely  aware  of 
their  greeting.  When  she  had  gone  so  far 
through  the  wood  that  she  might  at  any 
moment  see  the  first  Evje  hills,  she  had  to  sit 
down  on  a  stone  by  the  wayside  to  get  up  her 
courage.  She  had  never  had  such  a  weary 
walk.  When  at  last  she  had  gone  so  far  that 
she  could  see  the  big  house  up  on  the  hill,  with 
the  sunlight  flaming  in  its  long  row  of  windows 
towards  the  fjord,  she  stopped  again,  and  be- 
gan making  holes  in  the  sand  with  her  parasol. 
She  was  going  up  there  now,  to  kill  what  was 
perhaps  Erik  Evje's  dearest  possession. 

And  suddenly  she  turned  round  and 
hastened  homewards.  She  could  not  do  it; 
she  would  never  be  able  to  do  it ! 


At  last  the  day  arrived  when  Bertil  Sveen  was 
relieved  from  service,  and  when,  his  own 
master,  he  set  out  from  Evje  with  pickaxe, 
spade  and  axe  upon  his  shoulder. 

It  was  a  calm,  warm  autumn  day,  with  a 
yellow  sky,  and  the  fjord  a  deep  blue.  The 
meadows  had  not  yet  had  time  to  grow  green 
again  after  the  hay,  which  was  all  in ;  and  the 
corn  stood  tall  and  golden,  bending  before  the 
breeze.  The  first  yellow  patches  had  appeared 
among  the  trees  upon  the  hills.  Bertil  was  in 
a  strange  mood.  Up  on  the  bluffs  he  stopped 
and  looked  down  at  the  farm.  There  he  had 
served  for  more  than  twenty  years.  From 
the  time  he  was  twelve  years  old  and  had  be- 
gun as  a  goatherd,  he  had  worked  for  others. 
But  to-day — to-day  was  the  beginning  of 
something  quite  new. 

He  was  passing  the  sawmills,  and  through 
the  noise  from  the  waterfall  and  the  wheels, 
a  voice  shouted  to  him:  "Come  here  and  help 

120 


Treacherous  Ground  121 

us,  man!"  But  Bertil  laughed,  understand- 
ing it  was  only  a  joke,  and  really  meant, 
" Congratulate  you,  Bertil!" 

Above  the  fall,  the  river  flows  quite 
smoothly,  and  birch  and  fir  are  reflected  in  it. 
Here  rises  a  perpendicular  rock,  making  the 
quiet  stream  dark  with  shadow ;  there  the  sun 
scatters  gold  through  the  leaves  upon  the 
eddies,  and  farther  on  it  is  the  blue  sky  that 
gazes  up  out  of  the  water.  Bertil  passed 
through  the  gate  into  the  hill  pasture,  and  up 
on  the  next  slope ;  he  looked  into  a  valley  over- 
grown with  alder  and  birch  with  here  and 
there  a  fir-tree.  The  cattle  had  trodden  paths 
in  every  direction.  The  yellow  leaves  hung 
motionless  in  the  still  air,  cranberries  were 
reddening  on  their  mounds,  and  in  front  the 
fir-clad  hill  raised  its  curved  ridge  to  the  sun, 
the  fir-trees  along  it  standing  like  a  row  of 
church  spires  against  the  golden  sky. 

Bertil  stopped  in  the  middle  of  the  piece  of 
land  that  had  been  allotted  to  him,  laid  down 
his  tools,  hung  his  coat,  waistcoat  and  hat  upon 
a  stump,  spat  upon  his  hands,  and  seized  his 
axe.  It  flashed  as  it  swung  up  into  the  sun- 
light, and  suddenly  the  sound  of  sharp  blows 
rang  out  over  the  silent  forest.  The  hills  an- 
swered back,  irritated  at  being  disturbed  in 


122  Treacherous  Ground 

their  sleep;  and  it  was  echoed  again  far  in 
from  the  dark  valley. 

The  chips  flew  about  him;  the  great  fir 
sighed,  swayed  a  little  as  if  it  were  about  to 
faint,  and  suddenly  the  top  described  a  long 
curve  towards  the  earth.  Bertil  lopped  the 
branches  off  the  trunk,  and  dragged  it  a  little 
to  one  side.  It  left  a  little  clear  spot  with  a 
tree-stump  in  the  middle.  This  was  Bertil 
and  Itigeborg's  first  patch  of  cleared  ground. 

Soon  after,  the  hills  were  scolding  again. 
Then  they  grumbled  a  little,  for  it  was  alder 
and  undergrowth  that  was  being  cut  down 
with  one  blow.  The  pile  of  twigs  and  saplings 
grew  unceasingly.  The  cleared  patch  in- 
creased in  size;  soon  it  was  large  enough  for 
a  cottage,  and  a  little  while  after  for  a  cow- 
shed too;  but  there  were  to  be  fields  and 
meadows  as  well.  The  blows  resounded,  and 
the  pile  of  branches  became  a  little  mountain. 

Ding-dong  went  the  bell  down  at  Evje,  ring- 
ing for  dinner.  Bertil  stood  erect  and  looked 
about  him.  He  was  to  go  home  and  get  his 
meals  at  the  farm  to-day  as  usual,  thanks  to 
Erik  Evje's  offer.  But  before  he  went  he 
would  like  to  try  whether  that  stone  there 
could  be  moved ;  it  was  lying  exactly  where  the 
celler  under  the  cottage  would  be  dug. 


Treacherous  Ground  123 

Bertil  laid  aside  his  axe,  and,  taking  up  a 
crowbar,  drove  it  in  under  the  stone.  It  moved 
a  little,  but  slipped  back  again  directly  into 
its  place,  as  much  as  to  say,  "I've  lain  here 
for  a  good  many  generations,  and  I'll  do  very 
well  where  I  am. "  "  Confound  it ! "  said  Bertil 
aloud,  and  struck  the  crowbar  just  under  its 
back.  Bother !  then  it  must  move  after  all ;  but 
in  a  little  while  it  got  the  upper  hand  again, 
and  slipped  down  into  its  bed  once  more.  But 
now  Bertil  got  angry,  and  drove  the  crowbar 
right  in  under  the  middle  of  the  stone.  Heave 
ho !  His  knees  were  bent,  his  back  was  like  a 
bent  bow,  his  face  was  contorted  and  his  hands 
and  arms  quivered  with  the  strain.  Heave  ho ! 
Still  more — and  a  little  more — and  there! 
The  stone  turned  over  and  up  on  to  the  edge. 
In  the  earth-brown  hole  it  left,  worms  and 
beetles  crept  out,  and  there  were  a  number  of 
fine  roots  that  had  twisted  themselves  against 
the  stone. 

This  gave  Bertil  courage  for  more  stones 
that  were  lying  in  places  from  which  they  had 
to  be  moved;  and  the  perspiration  ran  down 
his  face.  The  scent  of  cut  juniper  and  juicy 
birch  rose  up  in  the  heat.  The  sound  of  a 
bell  approached,  and  a  mare  with  her  foal 
looked  through  the  branches;  the  foal  ven- 


124  Treacherous  Ground 

tured  out  to  snuff  at  the  heap  of  twigs,  but 
galloped  away  as  Bertil  straightened  his  back. 
A  goshawk  hovered  motionless,  like  a  line, 
high  up  in  the  sky.  The  mare  and  the  foal 
soon  disappeared,  and  the  only  sounds  to  be 
heard  were  the  distant  roar  of  the  waterfall, 
and  Bertil 's  crowbar  against  the  stone. 

Ding,  dong!  It  was  the  Evje  bell  ringing 
at  three  o'clock.  Bertil  wiped  the  perspira- 
tion from  his  forehead,  and  wondered  that  he 
should  have  forgotten  dinner  just  that  day. 
He  would  go  home  now.  He  took  a  fresh  quid, 
and  looked  at  the  stumps  standing  out  of  the 
rich  mould,  and  at  the  pile  of  branches  which 
had  grown  into  a  small  mountain.  Ingeborg 
would  have  wood  for  boiling  her  coffee-kettle 
for  some  time  to  come,  that  was  certain. 

And  he  would  be  coming  here  to-morrow  too, 
and  clear  as  he  had  done  to-day,  and  nobody 
would  come  and  say:  "You  must  do  so  and  so 
at  such  and  such  a  time.  And  oats  are  to  be 
sown  here,  and  potatoes  planted  there."  No, 
it  was  he  who  was  master  here,  and  if  he  liked 
to  sow  something  brand  new,  he  could. 

Suddenly  the  blows  of  the  axe  rang  out 
again.  Twilight  began  to  make  the  valley  deep 
with  shadow,  while  the  highest  ridges  still 


Treacherous  Ground  125 

glowed  in  the  setting-  sun ;  but  the  blows  of  the 
axe  still  rang  out  of  the  darkness. 

Late  that  evening  two  men  came  up  along 
the  bluffs  by  the  river,  each  with  a  lantern  in 
his  hand.  They  had  been  sent  out  by  Erik 
E v j  e  to  look  for  Bertil.  "  It 's  very  likely  he 's 
fallen  into  the  river  in  the  darkness,"  said  one 
of  them.  ' '  Oh  no, "  said  the  other.  ' '  It 's  much 
more  likely  that  he's  brought  a  tree  down  upon 
himself,  or  cut  himself  badly."  But  at  the 
gate  they  stood  still  and  listened,  for  the  sound 
of  chopping  rang  out  from  the  darkness  of  the 
thick  wood. 

•  •  •  •  • 

A  few  days  later,  Bertil  was  rowing  across 
the  fjord  with  Ingeborg  in  the  stern  of  the  boat. 
She  was  not  allowed  to  help  with  the  spare 
pair  of  oars;  she  was  to  sit  in  grandeur  like 
the  bailiff  on  his  official  expeditions.  She  had 
her  dowry  round  her,  things  that  she  had  got 
with  her  own  savings.  There  was  a  chest  of 
drawers,  an  old  chest  full  of  dresses  and  un- 
derclothing, and  a  large  bundle  of  boots;  for 
a  careful  servant  ought  to  put  by  at  least  one 
pair  of  boots  and  two  pairs  of  stockings  a  year, 
and  Ingeborg  had  served  for  a  great  many 
years.  She  also  had  a  bed  and  bedding,  which 
there  had  not  been  room  for  to-day ;  and  in  the 


126  Treacherous  Ground 

bosom  of  her  dress  was  a  savings-bank  book 
with  a  couple  of  hundred  krones  in  it.  She 
herself  was  a  broad-shouldered,  freckled 
woman  of  about  forty,  with  slightly  hollow 
cheeks,  and  hands  that  were  coarse  with  the 
long  years  of  service  in  other  people's  kitchens 
and  cowsheds. 

"How  are  you  getting  on?"  asked  Bertil, 
with  a  smile.  She  had  said  nothing  for  a  long 
time. 

"Oh,  it's  all  so  strange!"  she  said,  looking 
back. 

"Yes,  it  is!"  he  answered,  pressing  his  lips 
together. 

It  was  strange  for  her  to  be  approaching 
the  other  shore ;  for,  during  the  fifteen  years 
of  their  engagement,  she  had  never  been  to  see 
him.  Every  summer  they  used  to  meet  at  the 
church  in  her  parish,  and  in  the  winter  they 
had  exchanged  a  sort  of  letter  to  tell  one  an- 
other that  everything  between  them  should  be 
as  before.  But  many  a  time  had  she  stood  at 
the  kitchen  window  and  gazed  across,  and  been 
sure  that  it  was  Bertil  ploughing  on  the  Evje 
hills.  In  the  course  of  years,  the  shore  over 
there  had  become  a  kind  of  dreamland,  to 
which  she  turned  her  eyes  whenever  she  was 
particularly  tired  or  sad. 


Treacherous  Ground  127 

"I  didn't  think  Evje  Farm  was  so  big!" 
she  said,  as  they  drew  near  to  the  shore ;  for 
from  a  distance,  everything  over  there  had 
seemed  so  small. 

"I  suppose  you  didn't  think  I  was  so  big 
either,"  he  said,  smiling. 

On  the  shore  stood  a  horse  from  Evje,  and 
when  the  load  drew  near  to  the  house,  Erik 
himself  came  out  and  bade  her  welcome. 

A  few  days  after  there  was  a  double  wedding 
at  Evje.  The  two  couples  drove  to  church, 
each  in  their  separate  basket-chaise,  and  after 
the  wedding  there  was  a  festive  gathering  at 
the  farm,  to  which  all  the  farm-hands,  tenants 
and  neighbours  were  invited.  At  the  table, 
which  was  laid  out  in  the  courtyard  of  the 
house,  under  the  warm  September  sun,  Erik 
himself  made  a  speech,  and  all  who  heard  it 
were  of  opinion  that  the  priest  himself  could 
not  have  spoken  so  beautifully.  Fru  Evje  had 
had  to  take  a  trip  to  town  just  then,  but  no- 
body minded  that;  and  in  the  evening  the 
young  people  were  allowed  to  indulge  in  a 
dance.  The  only  sad  thing  that  happened  was 
that  one  of  the  bridegrooms — namely,  Lars 
Brovold,  became  so  drunk,  that  his  comrades 
had  actually  to  carry  him  to  bed. 

After  the  wedding,  Petra  and  Lars  went  to 


128  Treacherous  Ground 

live  with  his  parents;  and  Bertil's  wife  took 
the  cook's  place  at  Evje  until  they  could  move 
into  their  own  cottage. 

As  the  autumn  went  on,  the  hills  up  the 
valley  had  a  great  deal  to  scold  about.  Bertil 
was  chopping,  Lars  was  chopping  and  had  his 
father  to  help  him,  and  old  Peter  Troen  was 
chopping  and  a  son  with  him.  Later  on,  when 
the  ploughing  began,  the  three  neighbours  up 
there  had  to  take  it  in  turns  to  help  one  an- 
other. 

But  a  few  weeks  after  the  wedding,  Lars 
heard  something  that  quite  dazed  him.  This 
was  that  Kristina  up  the  valley  had,  after  all, 
got  engaged  to  Knut  Rabben.  And  yet  what 
did  it  matter  to  Lars,  now  that  he  was  a  mar- 
ried man  and  had  other  things  than  girls  to 
think  about?  What  indeed!  But  though  he 
clenched  his  teeth  and  swore  that  he  would 
put  that  nonsense  out  of  his  head,  it  came 
again  and  again,  making  him  drop  his  axe  or 
crowbar,  and  sit  down  in  dejection. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  boy?"  said 
his  father,  who  was  cutting  and  pulling  up 
roots  beside  him. 

"Oh,  it's  nothing  worth  mentioning,"  said 
Lars,  setting  to  work  again. 

One  day  he  heard  that  Knut  and  Kristina 


Treacherous  Ground  129 

were  thinking  of  going  to  America,  and  that 
night  Lars  could  not  sleep;  for  if  Kristina 
went  so  far  away  that  he  would  never  be  able 
to  see  her  again,  he  did  not  know  what  he 
should  do. 

He  would  have  liked  to  injure  Knut  Rabben 
for  life,  but  that  was  scarcely  the  wisest  ex- 
pedient. At  last,  when  Lars  had  pondered 
the  matter  well  for  several  days,  it  ended  with 
his  going  to  Erik  Evje  and  asking  for  a  piece 
of  land  for  Knut  too. 

Knut  was  the  son  of  one  of  the  sawmill 
hands  at  Evje,  and  as  there  was  plenty  of  room 
for  several  small  holdings  up  the  valley,  and 
Lars  begged  so  earnestly,  Erik  could  do 
nothing  but  consent. 

Lars  was  overjoyed,  for  now  Kristina  would 
at  any  rate  be  his  neighbour. 

One  fine  day  when  he  was  busy  upon  his 
land,  he  heard  the  sound  of  chopping  just  in- 
side the  wood.  It  was  Knut  beginning  to  clear 
the  ground  for  himself  and  Kristina.  A 
strange  feeling  suddenly  came  over  Lars,  and 
he  stood  listening  to  the  sound.  To  think  that 
some  one  else  should  clear  the  ground  for  the 
cottage  in  which  Kristina  was  to  be  wife,  and 
that  it  would  never,  never  be  he !  It  felt  as  if 


130  Treacherous  Ground 

each  stroke  of  the  axe  fell  upon  something 
within  him. 
The  strokes  were  echoed  from  the  hills. 

Bertil  and  Ingeborg  had  been  married  a 
month,  and  in  that  time  she  had  grown  pale 
and  looked  ill,  and  he  was  more  taciturn  than 
ever.  At  first  she  often  went  up  to  Newland 
with  him,  to  consult  with  him  as  to  how  every- 
thing was  to  be  done;  but  when  she  noticed 
that  they  had  very  different  opinions  about 
things,  she  began  to  say  that  he  could  do  it  all 
as  he  thought  best. 

No  one  could  notice  that  they  quarrelled  and 
disagreed;  but  neither  were  they  as  newly- 
married  people  generally  are.  Perhaps  they 
had  waited  too  long  for  this  marriage,  and  had 
grown  to  expect  too  much  from  one  another. 

The  hardest  thing  for  Ingeborg  was  that 
every  time  she  thought  Bertil  was  not  what  he 
ought  to  be,  her  mother's  T Darning  came  into 
her  mind.  "If  you  take  1  m,  I  shall  'turn' 
in  my  grave!"  The  old  woman  had  wanted 
her  to  take  a  farmer,  who  was  well-off;  but 
Ingeborg  wanted  to  be  faithful  to  the  man  she 
loved  and  wait,  and  she  had  got  him  at  last. 
But  now  she  began  to  dream  at  night  that  her 
mother  turned  in  her  grave;  and  the  oftener 


Treacherous  Ground  131 

she  was  disappointed  in  Bertil,  the  oftener 
this  bad  dream  returned. 

One  bright  moonlight  evening,  Bertil  wan- 
dered up  to  his  land  again  after  supper.  The 
logs  had  been  driven  up  now,  and  were  only 
waiting  to  be  put  up,  and  the  cellar  had  been 
dug.  It  had  been  raining,  and  the  leaves 
sparkled  like  so  many  stars  in  the  wood,  and 
from  the  black  shadow  of  the  valley  sounded 
the  quiet  hum  of  the  river. 

Bertil  walked  round  the  logs  with  his 
thumbs  in  his  waistcoat  pockets,  ruminating. 
The  cottage  would  be  sheltered  enough  here, 
and  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  ground  too ;  but 
there  was  something  wrong  with  it  that  he 
had  not  noticed  until  the  last  few  days — the 
fjord  could  not  be  seen  from  it. 

A  little  later  he  was  wading  through  the 
alder  bushes  up  a  hill.  The  raindrops  from 
the  leaves  clung  to  his  clothes,  and  began  to 
reflect  the  moonbeams.  When  he  reached  the 
top,  he  put  his  hands  in  his  trousers  pockets 
and  turned  towards  the  broad,  moonlit  fjord. 
He  could  see  the  land  on  the  other  side  too, 
now,  where  Ingeborg  had  lived  for  so  many 
years.  It  was  called  Southland,  and  many  a 
time  had  he  turned  his  face  towards  it  when  he 
had  had  something  to  think  about. 


132  Treacherous  Ground 

But  the  Ingeborg  that  had  come  here 
seemed  different  to  the  one  over  there. 

"If  the  house  had  stood  here,"  he  thought, 
"I  could  have  sat  at  the  window  and  looked 
across.  What  a  pity  I  didn't  think  of  that 
before!" 

He  sighed  and  sat  down  upon  a  stone.  If 
only  the  cellar  had  not  been  dug  down  there ! 
That  was  many  hard  days'  work. 

As  he  went  down  again,  he  saw  the  view  be- 
come less  and  less;  and  when  Southland  was 
quite  gone,  and  the  fjord  too,  he  felt  quite 
melancholy  at  the  thought  that  it  would  be  so 
dark  down  here. 

It  would  be  harder  work  with  the  crops  up 
on  the  hill,  it  was  true,  and  he  had  thought  of 
Ingeborg,  who  was  to  help  him  to  carry  in  the 
hay,  when  he  had  chosen  the  place  down  here. 
In  his  innermost  heart  there  was  a  silent  long- 
ing that  he  should  not  altogether  lose  the  Inge- 
borg that  was  still  on  the  other  side  of  the 
fjord. 

"If  I  had  been  younger,."  he  thought,  taking 
hold  of  a  log,  "I  could  have  managed  all  the 
same." 

A  new  cellar  might  be  dug,  but  he  could  not 
possibly  bother  Herr  Evje  about  horses  to 
move  the  material. 


Treacherous  Ground  133 

"If  I  had  been  younger!"  And  just  for 
fun,  as  it  were,  lie  took  up  the  log,  and  tried 
its  weight  upon  his  shoulder.  He  managed  it, 
but  it  bent  him  nearly  double ;  and  before  he 
quite  knew  what  he  was  doing,  he  had  begun 
to  move  up  the  hill  with  this  log  through  the 
wet  leaves  that  sparkled  in  the  bright  moon- 
light. The  hill  almost  took  away  his  breath, 
but  at  last  he  reached  the  top  and  dropped  the 
log.  He  then  wiped  his  forehead  and  straight- 
ened his  back;  and  while  he  regained  his 
breath,  he  stood  looking  across  at  Southland 
all  the  time.  The  effort  had  made  him  feel 
almost  as  if  he  had  saved  some  of  what  had 
been  his  comfort  and  hope  for  so  many  years. 

During  the  next  few  days,  all  the  farm- 
hands at  Evje  noticed  that  Bertil  was  un- 
usually tired  when  he  came  home ;  but  the  pile 
of  logs  up  there  grew  smaller  and  smaller,  and 
up  the  hill  there  went  a  black  path  with  deep 
marks  of  feet  that  had  trodden  hard.  At  last 
nothing  was  left  down  below  but  a  wide  hole : 
the  material  was  moved. 

"Too  much  water  got  into  the  cellar  on  the 
old  place,"  said  Bertil  to  those  who  wondered ; 
but  he  seemed  crooked  and  bent  from  this 
time,  and  generally  walked  with  his  hand  on 
his  back. 


Chapter  III 


One  Sunday  afternoon  large  numbers  of 
people  gathered  about  the  steamer  pier,  for 
to-day  Olina  Troen  was  expected  home  from 
prison.  As  the  boat  ploughed  its  way  into 
the  bay,  however,  and  whistled,  people  began 
to  retreat  up  the  grass  slopes ;  and  when  curi- 
osity drove  some  children  right  up  to  the  gang- 
way, a  sensible  man  came  and  sent  them  away. 
Within  the  memory  of  man,  nothing  so  hor- 
rible had  happened  in  these  parts  as  Olina 's 
murder  of  her  child,  so  she  was  not  a  person 
for  children  to  come  near. 

The  boat  lay  to  at  the  pier,  and  people  began 
to  go  ashore.  "Where  is  she?"  it  was  whis- 
pered in  the  groups  on  the  grass.  " That's 
her  with  the  basket."  "Oh,  my  goodness!" 
"She  wore  a  handkerchief  on  her  head  when 
she  went  away,  but  now  she's  got  a  hat!"  said 
a  voice  in  the  crowd.  "See  what  it  is  to  have 
been  to  town!" 

134 


Treacherous  Ground  135 

Little,  grey-bearded  Peter  Troen  came 
down  with  a  wheelbarrow.  No  one  returned 
his  greeting  as  he  passed,  but  all  followed  him 
with  their  eyes.  One  woman  was  left  standing 
down  upon  the  bridge,  and  though  she  looked 
with  a  glance  of  recognition  at  several,  they 
all  hurried  past  her.  At  last  she  caught  sight 
of  her  father,  and  now  they  saw  her  smile,  but 
immediately  afterwards  put  her  handkerchief 
to  her  eyes.  l  i  Poor  man !  To  be  her  father ! ' ' 
said  a  woman  up  on  the  slope.  "It's  a  good 
thing  her  mother's  in  her  grave. "  But  even 
when  her  father  had  taken  her  basket  and  set 
off,  Olina  still  stood  wiping  her  eyes.  She  did 
not  seem  to  know  how  to  come  any  nearer  to 
those  people  who  were  staring  so. 

Suddenly  a  carriage  from  Evje  turned  in  in 
front  of  the  boathouses,  and  Erik  himself  got 
out,  and  began  to  walk  down  the  beach. 
" Good-day,  Olina!"  he  called  from  a  distance, 
so  that  every  one  must  hear  it  distinctly. 
They  did  indeed  stare  open-mouthed  when 
Herr  Evje  shook  hands  with  her  and  was  as 
polite  to  her  as  if  she  were  a  fine  lady,  and  still 
more  when  her  things  were  put  into  the  Evje 
carriage,  and  she  took  her  place  beside  Erik. 
She  too  looked  quite  confused.  As  they  drove 
through  the  crowd,  Erik  raised  his  hat  with 


136  Treacherous  Ground 

a  curious  smile,  and  the  people  could  not  but 
return  his  greeting;  and  as  Peter  Troen 
trudged  along  behind  with  his  empty  wheel- 
barrow, several  of  them  spoke  a  few  words  to 
him  too. 

The  road  wound  like  a  thread  along  the 
autumn-grey  fjord,  while  here  and  there  lay 
heaps  of  withered  leaves,  sometimes  trodden 
into  the  mire.  When  the  carriage  could  no 
longer  be  seen  from  the  pier,  the  horse  was 
allowed  to  walk. 

Erik  was  in  a  strange  mood.  He  had  been 
dreading  this  meeting,  but  when  he  met  her, 
it  was  as  if  she  were  almost  a  stranger.  Time, 
the  prison  atmosphere,  and  her  troubles  had 
done  their  work,  and  the  woman  who  sat  there 
was  certainly  not  the  pure,  maidenly  being 
his  conscience  had  made  her  into.  This,  how- 
ever, was  only  a  relief.  "I  don't  love  her  any 
longer, "  he  thought  with  a  sense  of  freedom; 
"and  perhaps  she  has  never  reproached  me. 
I  may  have  been  imagining  an  exaggerated 
amount  of  blame  in  the  matter."  Perhaps 
she  had  not  been  so  very  unhappy  in  prison 
either. 

"It's  a  long  time  since  we  met  last,  Olina, 
isn't  it?" 

The  woman  turned  her  coarse-featured  face 


Treacherous  Ground  137 

towards  him,  and  tried  to  laugh.  "Yes,"  she 
answered,  "it  is  a  long  time." 

She  had  picked  up  a  terrible  town  accent, 
and  added  to  that  there  was  the  miserable  hat 
and  the  clumsy  attempt  at  finery.  She  pressed 
her  lips  together,  too,  when  she  smiled,  so  that 
her  nose  came  right  down  to  her  mouth.  She 
began  to  talk  volubly  of  how  nice  it  was  to 
come  home  to  her  father  again ;  and,  without 
thanking  Erik,  she  began  in  a  practical 
manner  to  wonder  how  long  it  would  be  before 
they  could  keep  a  horse  upon  the  little  farm 
he  had  given  her. 

When  they  got  into  the  wood,  and  no  one 
was  in  sight,  Erik  turned  to  her  with  a  melan- 
choly smile,  and  said:  "Are  you  angry  with 
me,  Olina?" 

At  first  she  looked  at  him  in  astonishment, 
and  then  gave  him  the  side-glance  that  had 
always  bewitched  him  so,  and  that  to-day  was 
like  a  last  message  from  something  that  he 
was  never  to  see  again. 

"Oh  no!"  she  answered  at  last,  without 
turning  to  him,  and  then  blushing  suddenly 
at  some  thought  that  had  come  into  her  mind. 
Erik  kept  down  a  rising  emotion.  It  was  this 
question  and  this  answer  that  had  so  often 
robbed  him  of  sleep. 


138  Treacherous  Ground 

In  a  little  while  she  added  quietly,  as  if  to 
herself:  "It's  so  long  ago  now." 

Long  ago!  He  would  like  to  tell  her — but 
no,  no!  She  might  answer  that  she  was  still 
unmarried,  and  he  too;  and  that?  Never! 
He  could  see  with  his  mind's  eye  a  woman 
with  soft  hands  and  beautiful  dark  eyebrows. 
What  he  had  now  done  for  Olina  would  have 
to  be  sufficient. 

When  Erik  had  set  her  down  at  her  father's 
little  cottage,  he  felt  that  his  account  with  this 
cottager's  daughter  was  now  settled.  But,  on 
his  way  homewards,  he  sat  with  bent  head. 
That  these  painful  reminiscences  of  his  youth 
would  not  be  likely  to  worry  him  any  more, 
was  a  good  enough  thing ;  but,  with  the  drop- 
ping of  this  woman  out  of  his  account,  he 
seemed  to  be  burying  a  large  part  of  his  own 
youth. 

"And  what  purpose  has  it  all  served?"  he 
thought  sadly,  as  he  drove  up  the  avenue  at 
Evje.  It  almost  seemed  to  him  as  if  his  own 
conscience  had  befooled  him. 


Chapter  IV 


It  was  after  this  that  Fru  Evje  began  to  regain 
her  former  good  spirits;  for  something  hap- 
pened of  which  she  had  lost  all  hope.  Erik 
began  to  take  his  duties  as  master  seriously; 
and  everything  went  more  smoothly  at  Evje 
now  than  they  had  done  for  many  years, 
because  there  was  once  more  a  man  to  hold  the 
reins. 

What  she  found  so  difficult  to  accustom 
herself  to  was  the  thought  that  everything  did 
not  now  rest  upon  her ;  and  many  a  time  when 
she  hurried  out  with  an  order,  she  received  the 
answer  that  Herr  Evje  had  told  them  that  the 
day  before,  and  she  could  only  laugh  to  herself 
and  go  in  again. 

Something  of  the  gentleness  that  results 
from  a  more  chastened  view  of  one's  own 
troubles,  began  to  come  over  Fru  Evje.  She 
understood  that  those  unhappy  days  in  the 
summer  had  been  a  trial  sent  by  God;  and 

139 


140  Treacherous  Ground 

she  therefore  tried  to  win  back  in  Christian 
humility  what  she  had  lost  in  land. 

Erik  had  really  become'  active.  It  seemed 
as  if  he  only  now,  when  the  matters  of  Olina 
and  the  labourers'  holdings  had  been  settled, 
felt  the  right  to  take  full  possession  of  his  own 
property.  He  was  young,  he  had  grown 
strong  again,  and  his  energy  had  to  find  a 
vent.  He  soon  saw  that,  notwithstanding  his 
mother's  capability,  much  at  Evje  had  de- 
teriorated during  the  last  few  years.  The 
large  farm  was  not  what  it  had  been,  the  plan- 
ing and  saw  mills  had  become  antiquated, 
and  the  flour-mill  was  only  a  parish  mill. 
Something  quite  different  could  be  made  out 
of  all  this,  and  he  already  was  beginning  to 
start  extensions. 

It  was  not  long  before  he  was  so  thoroughly 
acquainted  with  all  the  details  that  he  could 
catch  the  old  forest  foreman  in  little  falsifica- 
tions. Fru  Evje  heard  from  her  sitting-room 
that  there  was  a  disturbance  in  the  office,  and 
before  long  Erik  came  rushing  in,  quite  red  in 
the  face.  "That  confounded  scoundrel  shall 
be  sacked!"  he  swore.  "Erik,  Erik,  don't 
do  anything  you'll  regret!"  " Regret!  He's 
been  all-powerful  up  to  now,  the  old  fox ;  but 
it's  not  going  on  any  longer!"  "Well,  Erik, 


Treacherous  Ground  141 

there's  no  one  who  understands  his  business 
as  he  does,  and  you're  not  able  to  take  his  place 
yet."  Erik  at  last  allowed  himself  to  be  ap- 
peased, but  his  suspicions  had  been  aroused. 
Then  he  discovered  that  the  labourers,  whose 
work  did  not  lie  within  the  field  of  his  mother's 
supervision,  used  to  spend  the  time  in  talking ; 
so  he  began  to  take  them  by  surprise.  The  big 
business  occupied  not  only  all  his  thoughts, 
but  it  began  to  transform  him  for  its  own  use. 

When  the  work  of  the  week  was  over,  and 
Fru  Evje,  on  Sunday  morning,  put  on  her 
things  to  go  to  church,  Erik  would  take  a  walk 
up  the  valley  to  the  labourers'  colony,  which 
was  now  always  called  Newland. 

It  was  a  great  event  when  he  saw  smoke 
rising  from  one  of  the  cottages  there  for  the 
first  time.  The  following  Sunday  there  was 
one  more,  and  later  on  yet  another.  The  last 
was  from  Olina's  hearth,  and  he  stood  and 
looked  at  that  for  some  time.  This  project 
of  his,  that  had  once  been  a  distant  dream,  was 
at  last  actually  realised.  "People  may  say 
what  they  like  about  me,"  thought  Erik; 
' '  but  no  one  else  has  done  that  before. ' J  There 
was  so  much  to  think  about  in  this  matter  that 
he  had  to  sit  down  upon  a  stone  and  light  his 
pipe.  As  he  sat  looking  out  upon  this  little 


142  Treacherous  Ground 

world  that  lie  had  created,  it  was  not  really  the 
cottages,  the  land,  or  their  inhabitants  that  he 
was  thinking  about.  Every  great  undertaking 
that  has  cost  us  labour  gradually  assumes  an 
appearance  to  us  that  it  has  not  to  other  peo- 
ple. To  Erik,  Newland  was  a  collection  of 
precious  memories  of  himself.  It  reminded 
him  of  the  evil  days  he  had  gone  through,  both 
in  the  capital  and  here,  but  also  of  that  through 
which  he  had  laboriously  toiled  up  again.  The 
idea  had  come  to  him  like  a  boat  to  a  ship- 
wrecked man.  Newland  also  reminded  him  of 
troubles  that  had  been  overcome,  of  sore  recol- 
lections that  had  been  healed,  of  debts  of  con- 
science that  had  at  last  been  paid.  The  people 
who  lived  there  were  the  embodiment  of  some- 
thing beautiful  in  himself.  His  youthful  ideas 
had  seemed  for  a  time  as  though  they  would  be 
wrecked,  but  they  had  come  safely  to  shore 
here,  and  the  consciousness  of  this  was  always 
with  him  like  a  great  and  good  conscience. 

After  being,  for  six  days,  the  practical  man, 
who  reckons  out  carefully  what  will  pay,  Erik 
found  the  Sunday  walk  to  Newland  to  be  a 
kind  of  church-going,  as  up  there  he  was  sure 
to  find  a  cleaner  and  more  beautiful  edition 
of  himself. 

Erik  Evje  had  become  a  capable  man,  who 


Treacherous  Ground  143 

had  begun  to  be  respected.  If  he  was  to  be 
here  at  all,  he  would  like  to  show  people  that 
Evje  was  not  going  to  deteriorate  under  his 
rule. 

One  day  just  before  Christmas,  he  came 
home  to  dinner  in  great  excitement  over  the 
way  the  distillery,  in  which  he  and  his  mother 
had  a  number  of  shares,  was  being  managed. 
A  shameful  want  of  cleanliness  was  reported 
there,  and  anarchy  reigned  among  the  func- 
tionaries and  work-people;  and  now  if  they 
weren't  going  to  elect  a  school-teacher  on  the 
board !  He  was  the  man  to  put  things  right. 

"Well,  I  suppose  it's  your  own  fault,"  said 
his  mother  a  little  bitterly. 

"What's  that  nonsense?" 

"Well,  you  know  you'd  rather  the  whole 
distillery  went  to  ruin,"  she  went  on.  "And 
it  soon  will  now,  and  then  we  may  whistle  for 
the  thousands  that  your  father  put  into  it." 

"You  can't  be  serious,  mother!  Do  I  want 
it  to  go  to  ruin?" 

"Yes,  I  suppose  you  do." 

"When  have  I  said  so?" 

"Haven't  you  been  asked  to  become  a  mem- 
ber of  the  board — not  once,  but  ten  times?" 

Erik  looked  down,  and  did  not  answer ;  but 
later  in  the  day,  after  he  had  been  walking  ex- 


144  Treacherous  Ground 

citedly  up  and  down  the  office,  he  came  in  to 
her  and  said  that  he  had  decided  to  allow  him- 
self to  be  elected  after  all.  He  saw  the  matter 
in  a  different  light  now.  And  he  began  to  walk 
about  the  room,  and  explain  to  her  how  he  had 
thought  the  irregularities  might  be  corrected. 
"What  are  you  smiling  at?"  he  said,  stopping 
suddenly. 

"You  should  have  seen  how  like  you  were 
to  your  father,"  his  mother  answered. 

Erik  felt  a  slight  shock.  Indeed,  had  he 

really  begun  to ?  And  for  a  moment  he 

seemed  to  hear  a  well-known  voice  saying,  with 
a  scornful  laugh:  "Oh  yes,  already  you're  a 
forest-plunderer,  and  now  you'll  soon  be  a 
spirit-distiller.  The  next  thing  will  be  the 
Order  of  St.  Olaf." 

"Nonsense!"  thought  Erik;  and  it  was 
really  a  comfort  to  be  able  to  think  that  his 
father  would  never  have  planned  Newland. 

A  week  later  he  was  sitting  in  a  sleigh  one 
frosty  moonlight  evening,  driving  homewards. 
The  fjord  looked  black  against  the  white  shore, 
and  the  silver  harness-bells  rang  clearly 
through  the  snow-laden  forest.  Erik  was  now 
a  director,  and  he  was  wearing  his  father's 
fur  coat;  but  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  the  bells 
kept  up  an  incessant  cry  of  "Spirit-distiller! 


Treacherous  Ground  145 

Spirit-distiller!"  He  got  no  peace  until  he 
had  promised  himself  that  the  miller  should 
also  have  house  and  land  on  Newland. 

There  were  some  Sundays  now  when  he  had 
not  time  to  go  up  to  Newland,  but  sat  over  his 
papers  in  the  office.  He  was  risking  large 
sums  of  money  upon  his  extensions,  and  the 
thing  was  to  get  it  to  work.  He  still  felt  in- 
experienced in  many  things,  and  it  often 
seemed  to  be  getting  beyond  him;  but  he  set 
his  teeth  and  went  at  it  again,  for  he  was  de- 
termined that  he  would  get  it  to  go.  One 
transaction  followed  the  other;  he  made 
enemies,  against  whom  it  was  important  to 
make  the  right  moves,  and  in  his  zeal  he  was 
often  hard-handed  enough ;  but  the  farther  he 
felt  himself  drifting  away  from  the  pure,  un- 
selfish ideas  that  belonged  to  Newland,  the 
dearer  and  higher  did  that  spot  become  in  his 
mind.  It  was  a  comfort  to  turn  to  it  when  he 
had  done  a  bad  action ;  it  soon  stood  out  as  a 
far-off  state  of  innocence,  to  which  he  still 
hoped  at  some  time  to  return ;  it  became  a  little 
dreamland,  lying  on  a  height,  where  the  sun 
never  went  down. 

The  winter  days  followed  one  another  with 
snow-storms  of  sharp  frost.  He  had  looked 
forward  to  a  little  social  intercourse  at  Christ- 


146  Treacherous  Ground 

mas-time;  but  the  day  before  Christmas  Eve 
something  happened  that  altered  the  case. 

He  was  standing  on  the  pier  waiting  for 
his  mother,  who  was  coming  by  the  boat 
from  a  neighbouring  parish,  when  the  doctor's 
sleigh  drove  up  in  front  of  the  boathouses,  and 
a  young  lady  in  light  grey  furs  struggled  out 
of  it.  It  was  Inga  Rud. 

Erik  laid  down  the  reins,  and  walked  in  his 
heavy  fur  coat  towards  her,  and  shook  hands. 
"Are  you  going  away  in  this  Siberian  cold?" 
he  said,  waiting  anxiously  for  her  answer. 

She  looked  away  as  she  replied:  "Yes,  I'm 
going  to  stay  with  my  sister  in  Kristiania." 

"Keally?  And  you  mean  to  leave  us  all 
alone  here  at  Christmas!  Shall  you  be  away 
long?" 

"Probably  until  the  spring,"  she  answered. 

There  was  nothing  to  be  said  to  that.  The 
frost-vapour  drifted  in  from  the  leaden-col- 
oured fjord,  and  wound  itself  about  her  well- 
wrapped-up  figure ;  but  her  face  was  rosy  and 
fresh  under  her  fur  hat,  and  her  eyebrows 
were  more  beautiful  than  ever. 

"Good-bye!"  she  said  as  the  steamer  ap- 
proached, and  she  prepared  to  go  on  board. 

"Good-bye!    And  a  happy  Christmas!" 


Treacherous  Ground  147 

A  melancholy  little  smile  flashed  across  her 
face.  What  could  it  mean? 

As  he  sat  by  his  mother's  side  in  the  sleigh, 
driving  along  the  fjord,  he  watched  the  ship 
that  was  carrying  her  away,  until  the  grey 
frost  fog  closed  over  it.  It  had  at  any  rate 
been  a  pleasure  to  know  she  was  so  near ;  and 
now  the  winter  would  feel  darker  and  colder 
than  before. 

Christmas  came,  and  there  were  festivities 
in  the  parish ;  but  Erik  stayed  at  home. 

It  was  long  since  he  had  spent  a  winter  in 
the  country,  and  he  began  to  feel  the  want  of 
some  one  to  talk  to,  who  shared  his  opinions. 
As  he  went  from  window  to  window,  he  would 
feel  as  if  he  were  snowed  up,  far,  far  away 
from  the  world.  For  weeks  together  the  win- 
dow-panes would  be  thick  with  ice,  and  the 
frost  would  pour  in  like  white  smoke  when- 
ever the  door  was  opened ;  and  there  was  some- 
thing depressing  about  the  stiffened  landscape 
that  lay  there  day  after  day  as  hopelessly  as 
if  under  a  winding-sheet.  After  a  couple  of 
hours'  daylight,  the  grey  twilight  would  come 
once  more;  and  when  Erik  saw  the  yellow 
lights  appearing  in  the  windows  of  the  farms 
on  the  other  side  of  the  fjord,  they  seemed  to 


148  Treacherous  Ground 

him  like  signals  from  people  in  distress,  whom 
he  was  unable  to  help. 

It  was  a  change  for  him  to  go  with  the  forest 
manager  on  ski  up  to  the  timber-felling, 
through  white  forest,  across  heaths  and  frozen 
lakes,  where  only  the  occasional  track  of  a 
hare  was  seen.  There  he  would  sit  in  the  snow 
and  eat  the  food  he  had  taken  with  him,  and 
watch  the  piles  of  timber  turning  into  moun- 
tains of  snow,  the  men's  beards  into  icicles, 
and  the  horses'  coats  into  frost-brushes;  and 
then  towards  evening  they  would  skim  down 
again  over  the  hills  on  their  ski,  brushing 
clouds  of  snow  from  the  bushes  and  branches, 
and  with  the  cold  air  nipping  their  noses  and 
making  them  burn. 

At  last  the  sun  was  seen  again,  and  the 
weeks  passed  more  quickly  as  the  days  grew 
into  spring.  The  fjord  became  lighter  in  col- 
our, and  the  hot  sun  began  to  bring  out  the 
smell  of  the  sea  and  seaweed.  When  at  last 
May — with  its  green  woods  and  cuckoo-calls 
and  busy  farm-labourers  on  the  Evje  hills — 
had  come,  great  changes  had  taken  place  up  at 
the  waterfall.  The  sawmills  and  planing-mills 
were  now  new,  modern  factory  buildings ;  and 
the  flour-mill  had  been  pulled  down  to  make 
room  for  a  larger  one. 


Treacherous  Ground  149 

Up  at  Newland,  where  the  snow  lay  longer 
than  down  by  the  sea,  a  little  of  the  spring 
farming  work  had  at  last  been  done,  too,  after 
a  fashion.  Knut  Rabben  and  Kristina  had 
moved  up,  and  the  miller  was  building;  so 
now  there  would  soon  be  five  little  farms 
standing  upon  ground  that  a  year  before  had 
only  been  uncleared  land. 

At  last,  one  Sunday,  Erik  found  time  to  go 
up  there  again.  He  was  strangely  touched 
when  he  saw  the  little  patches  of  fields  on  the 
hillsides,  with  the  crops  beginning  to  show 
green;  but  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  what  was 
sown  was  not  corn,  but  ideas.  The  young 
shoots  made  him  think  of  little  children 
stretching  their  arms  up  towards  the  sun. 

"God  grant  it  may  be  a  good  year  now!" 
thought  Erik,  as  he  rose  with  a  feeling  almost 
of  sadness  at  having  to  leave  the  place  again. 

But  when  he  looked  down  from  the  cliffs 
upon  his  own  wide  fields,  where  the  corn  was 
much  more  forward,  he  stood  still  once  more 
in  a  strange  emotion.  It  almost  seemed  as  if 
those  patches  of  land  in  Newland  had  volun- 
tarily made  themselves  so  small,  so  that  his 
own  might  be  all  the  larger.  They  lay  in  there 
in  the  shade,  so  that  his  could  lie  in  the  sun. 
Indeed  it  almost  seemed  as  if  the  people  in 


150  Treacherous  Ground 

Newland  lived  their  life  just  there,  so  that 
he  could  feel  happy  here  in  the  sun. 

"And  now  she  will  soon  be  coming  home 
again,  I  suppose,  and  then?" 

When  he  reached  home,  a  strange  carriole 
was  standing  in  the  yard.  A  maid  came  out  of 
the  kitchen  door,  and  he  asked  her  whether 
there  were  visitors. 

"I  think  it's  the  district  engineer,"  she 
answered. 

"Oh,  has  he  come  back?"  thought  Erik,  as 
he  stamped  the  earth  off  his  boots  upon  the 
fir  branches  lying  at  the  foot  of  the  steps. 


Chapter  V 

Herr  Rein  was  sitting  talking  to  Fru  Evje  in 
the  large  corner  room;  but,  when  Erik  en- 
tered he  rose  quickly  and  adjusted  his  glasses. 
1 1 Good  heavens!"  he  thought;  "is  this  Erik 
Evje?"  This  strong,  sunburnt  fellow  was  a 
very  different  being  from  that  poor  pale  thing 
on  the  steamer  last  year. 

"How  do  you  do,  Rein?  And  welcome 
back!"  said  Erik,  going  forward  quickly. 
"Have  you  had  a  good  time  while  you  were 
away  ?  But  there's  nothing  left  of  your  hand ! 
Hadn't  you  anything  to  eat  where  you've 
•been?" 

"Well,  you've  got  a  regular  farmer's  fist, 
to  make  up  for  it,"  said  Rein,  shaking  his 
thin  fingers  after  the  pressure  Erik  had  given 
them. 

Erik  smiled.  "Yes,"  he  said;  "that's 
what  comes  of  being  a  farmer." 

"But  now  I  shall  be  in  the  way,"  said  Fru 
Evje,  making  a  movement  to  go. 

151 


152  Treacherous  Ground 

"Oh  dear,  no!"  exclaimed  the  engineer, 
turning  to  her.  "I  hope  Evje  and  I  can  have 
a  chat  in  the  office." 

"Is  it  as  serious  as  that?"  asked  Erik. 
' '  But  how  is  your  wife  ?  Is  she  tired  after  her 
journey?" 

"Oh,  thank  you,"  Rein  replied,  a  little  con- 
fused, for  Erik's  friendliness  seemed  almost 
inopportune.  "Can  we  go  into  the  office, 
then?" 

"Why,  certainly!"  replied  Erik,  laughing, 
as  he  led  the  way. 

They  entered  a  large  room  with  leather  sofas 
and  chairs  and  a  writing-table  in  the  middle 
of  the  floor.  The  high  windows,  like  those  in 
the  sitting-rooms,  were  almost  hidden  by 
plants  in  pots.  Erik  motioned  his  companion 
to  an  arm-chair,  and  seated  himself  at  the 
table,  facing  him.  "Well?"  he  said,  with  an 
expectant  smile. 

Rein  crossed  one  of  his  long  legs  over  the 
other,  and  taking  off  his  glasses  began  to  play 
with  them.  "Well,"  he  said ;  "the  fact  is,  this 
is  an  unpleasant  errand  for  me,  my  dear 
Evje." 

"Then  perhaps  we'd  better  help  ourselves 
to  a  cigar,"  Erik  suggested,  handing  him  a 
box ;  but  Rein  declined.  His  forehead  wrinkled 


Treacherous  Ground  153 

nervously,  and  he  kept  on  fingering  his 
glasses.  "What  nails  that  man  is  furnished 
with,  to  be  sure!"  thought  Erik,  remembering 
at  the  same  moment  that  Mogstad  also  had 
just  such  nails. 

"I've  been  very  reluctant  to  come  on  this 
errand,"  Rein  went  on,  with  his  eyes  on  his 
glasses.  "But  on  the  other  hand  you  will  be 
just  the  person  to  understand  that  I  feel  it 
my  duty  to  speak  before  it's  too  late." 

' '  Speak  away,  then ! ' '  said  Erik  impatiently. 

"Your  idea  about  the  labourers'  holdings 
is  admirable  and  good,  and  therefore  it's  a 
very  great  pity  that  you'll  have  to  give  it  up." 

Erik  grasped  the  arms  of  his  chair  and 
opened  his  mouth  in  astonishment,  then  half 
closed  his  eyes  and  burst  out  laughing.  "Give 
it  up?" 

"Yes,"  said  Rein,  looking  at  him  at  last. 

"But,  man  alive,  don't  you  know  that  there 
are  several  families  living  up  there  already?" 

"That's  just  the  pity,  for  you'll  have  to  ask 
them  to  move  out  of  it  again."  , 

There  was  a  short  pause,  but  Erik  still 
laughed.  "What  shall  I  have  to  do,  do  you 
say?"  At  this  moment  he  resembled  his 
father  again,  when  he  threw  himself  back  in 
his  chair. 


154  Treacherous  Ground 

Kein  put  on  his  glasses  and  looked  towards 
the  window  as  if  at  the  thing  he  was  talking 
about. 

" There's  a  quagmire  up  there,  and  there 
may  be  a  landslip  at  any  moment.  An  autumn 
or  spring  flood  will  be  enough  to  carry  the 
whole  hillside  down  into  the  river.  The 
danger  is  doubled  now  that  the  settlers  have 
cleared  away  the  wood  that  has  held  the  slope 
together  up  to  the  present ;  and  it  is  absolutely 
unjustifiable  to  let  people  go  on  living  there." 

There  was  another  pause,  while  Erik  con- 
tinued to  look  at  Rein ;  and  then  at  last  he  said 
in  a  toneless  voice:  "What  are  you  talking 
about,  man?" 

"The  pity  is  that  I  wasn't  at  home  when 
you  started  this  affair." 

Erik  rose  from  his  seat  and  went  to  the 
window,  where  he  appeared  to  be  looking  out. 
They  were  both  silent  for  a  time,  and  in  the 
silence  the  ticking  of  a  clock  could  be  heard. 
But  Erik  was  thinking  of  what  the  other  had 
said.  Landslips  were  not  uncommon  things; 
and  now  he  imagined  to  himself  the  little  cot- 
tages in  Newland  slipping  down,  carried 
down  by  sand  and  clay,  and  swallowed  up  in 
an  abyss,  leaving  the  naked  rock  behind  them 
gaping  like  an  open  wound. 


Treacherous  Ground  155 

At  last  he  turned.  "How  can  you  be  sure  of 
this? "lie  asked. 

Rein  told  of  his  having  to  do  with  the  lay- 
ing out  of  the  new  railway,  and  how  it  was 
the  quagmire  up  there  that  had  necessitated 
the  bringing  of  the  line  round  the  other  side 
of  the  hill. 

"Does  any  one  else  know  of  this?  For  IVe 
never  heard  a  word  of  it  before." 

"The  officer  who  helped  me  would  be  able 
to  certify  it,  and  so  would  my  assistants.  I 
can  give  you  their  addresses,  if  you  like. ' ' 

Erik  began  to  walk  slowly  up  and  down  the 
room,  the  sunlight  as  it  filtered  in  through 
the  leaves  of  the.  plants  in  the  window  every 
now  and  then  catching  his  fair  hair  and 
pointed  beard. 

"Well,"  he  said  at  last,  his  head  bent,  "this 
is  a  bad  lookout  for  me." 

"And  still  worse  for  those  poor  things  up 
there,  who  have  had  all  their  toil  for  nothing. " 

"But,  dear  me,  it  can't  be  quite  so  bad  as 
you  make  out,  Rein." 

"It's  worse,  if  anything.  There  are  already 
suspicious  indications  in  the  bed  of  the  river 
farther  up.  I  was  up  there  yesterday.  I 
wanted  to  be  sure  before  I  spoke  to  you." 

Erik  felt  a  cold  shiver  run  down  his  back, 


156  Treacherous  Ground 

and  his  walk  grew  more  agitated  and  in- 
termittent. He  passed  his  hand  across  his 
forehead,  looked  towards  the  window,  and 
finally  at  Rein. 

"But,  confound  it,  there  must  be  some 
means  of  preventing  a  catastrophe!" 

Rein  shook  his  head. 

"A  bulwark  of  piles,  for  instance?"  Erik 
looked  at  him  anxiously.  But  Rein  could  not 
help  smiling.  "Whether  it  were  of  piles  or 
matches, ' '  he  said ;  "it  would  be  equally  worth- 
less." 

His  absolute  certainty  began  to  irritate  the 
master  of  Evje.  Rein  seemed  so  inexorable. 
It  was  really  as  if  he  had  come  with  an  ulti- 
matum. 

Rein  now  rose,  evidently  relieved  at  having 
got  through  his  difficult  task. 

"Well,  well,"  said  Erik,  shaking  hands  with 
him;  "I  must  think  the  matter  over." 

"It  will  make  no  difference,  however  much 
you  think  it  over,  Evje;  and  I  sincerely  hope 
that  you  won't  put  off  doing  what  ought  to  be 
done.  It's  a  question  of  many  human  lives." 

Erik  began  to  pace  up  and  down  again. 
"But,  confound  it,  I  must  have  time  to  think 
it  over  before  I  go  and  turn  those  people  off 
the  land  I've  just  given  them,  for  I've  no 


Treacherous  Ground  157 

other  to  let  them  have.  But  that's  what  you 
want,  is  it?  They're  to  leave  the  place,  are 
they?  Pull  down  their  houses,  and  leave  the 
little  fields  they've  dug,  which  are  now  grow- 
ing green ;  reduce  themselves  to  penury  again, 
man,  wife  and  children?  That's  what  you 
want,  is  it?" 

Rein  sighed.    "It's  a  pity,  but " 

"But?"  Erik  repeated,  looking  at  him. 

"Well,  at  any  rate  it's  not  my  fault  that 
there's  a  quagmire  on  the  Evje  hills." 

Erik  felt  a  little  repulsed,  and  began  to  pace 
up  and  down  again.  "No,"  he^said;  "and 
goodness  knows  it  isn't  mine  either.  I  cer- 
tainly meant  well,  though  it  raised  a  great  out- 
cry among  the  rich  farmers  here.  They  de- 
clared I  was  infecting  the  whole  district  with 
socialism;  and  to  this  day  those  poor  la- 
bourers' holdings  are  a  vexation  to  them  all." 

Rein  had  no  wish  to  enter  into  this  subject, 
and  therefore  moved  towards  the  door. 
"Well,"  he  said,  "that's  what  I  came  for,  and 
I've  done  what  /  can.  Good-morning."  Erik 
did  not  accompany  him  to  the  door,  but  con- 
tinued to  walk  up  and  down. 

In  the  meantime,  Fru  Evje  had  been  occu- 
pied with  her  own  affairs ;  but  some  time  after 
she  had  heard  Rein  drive  away,  she  had  oc- 


158  Treacherous  Ground 

casion  to  pass  through  the  sitting-rooms,  and 
went  into  the  office.  Erik  was  then  sitting 
with  his  head  in  his  hands. 

"Well?"  she  asked,  standing  still  and  look- 
ing at  him. 

He  made  no  answer  at  first,  but  when  she 
had  got  it  all  out  of  him,  she  burst  into  a  loud 
laugh..  "Oh,  that's  too  funny!"  she  cried. 
' '  That  really  is  good ! ' ' 

Erik  rose  with  an  expectant  look.  "Do  you 
know  anything  about  this  then,  mother  ?"  he 
said. 

"Certainly  I  do,"  she  said,  sitting  down. 

"Have  you  heard  that  there  is  a  quagmire 
up  there?" 

"Not  until  we  people  who  lived  along  the 
shore  were  to  have  the  railway  on  our  side; 
but  then  it  suddenly  became  so  full  of  quag- 
mires that  it  was  quite  impossible  for  us  to 
have  the  railway.  Oh,  that  Rein!  He'll  lend 
himself  to  anything!" 

Erik  was  thoughtful  for  a  little  while,  and 
then  said:  "Are  you  certain  of  this,  mother?" 

"Oh  yes,  Erik;  I  wasn't  born  yesterday." 

Erik  kept  walking  slowly  from  one  window 
to  the  other,  and  then  turned  and  went  up  to 
his  mother,  and,  placing  his  hands  on  her 
shoulders,  said:  "Are  you  perfectly  sure, 


Treacherous  Ground  159 

mother?    Is  it  all  a  made-up  story  that  the 
Newland  people  are  in  danger  ?" 

Fru  Evje  began  to  talk  volubly  about  all  the 
intriguing  that  had  gone  on  among  the  inhabi- 
tants, of  the  valley  in  order  to  get  the  railway 
over  on  their  side.  Erik  didn't  know  yet  what 
people  could  be  like ! 

When  she  was  gone,  Erik  remained  standing 
in  the  middle  of  the  room  with  his  eyes  on  the 
floor.  Of  course  his  mother  was  right!  Of 
course ! 

He  wandered  about  for  some  time  longer, 
both  out  of  doors  and  in,  but  at  last  sat  down 
to  work  to  get  rid  of  his  uncomfortable 
thoughts.  But  all  the  time  a  small  voice  with- 
in him  kept  on  saying:  " Suppose — neverthe- 
less  " 

Erik  was  not  happy  during  the  next  few 
days.  His  mother's  assurances  had  quieted 
him,  but  not  enough. 

/  There  are  some  men  who  cannot  think 
clearly  unless  they  have  a  cigar  in  their  mouth. 
When  that  little  thing  no  longer  smokes,  their 
thoughts,  too,  come  to  a  standstill.  It  was  thus 
now  with  Erik  Evje.  The  matter  of  the  la- 
bourers' holdings  had  been  a  necessity  to  his 
mind.  Of  late  he  had  worked  steadily  and 
well,  without  giving  much  attention  to  it ;  but 


160  Treacherous  Ground 

now,  when  it  threatened  to  come  to  a  standstill, 
it  was  another  matter.  In  the  middle  of  a 
letter  to  the  Local  Government  Board,  his  pen 

ceased  to  move.    "Suppose — nevertheless 

What  then?"  Later  on  it  was  necessary  to 
write  about  a  fresh  purchase  of  a  farm  for  the 
sake  of  its  forest.  The  pen  was  arrested  again 
in  the  face  of  this  same  catastrophe.  When  he 
was  among  the  men  at  the  sawmill,  it  came 

again — "Suppose — nevertheless "  And  at 

night  he  lay  awake,  imagining  he  saw  the  New- 
land  settlers  moving  away,  Newland  lying  de- 
serted, an  unsuccessful  attempt,  and  he  him- 
self left  with  his  business,  his  calculations  and 
lawsuits,  forest  devastation  and  distillery.  If 
only  he  could  be  quite  sure  that  his  mother  was 
right !  He  would  have  liked  to  go  and  consult 
some  one,  but  whom?  And  the  Newland 
people  must  not  be  alarmed  either. 

One  day,  when  he  was  sitting  in  his  office, 
there  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  Toger,  the 
little  shoemaker,  came  limping  in,  took  off  his 
cap,  and  wished  Erik  good-morning  with  a 
beaming  face.  Erik  asked  him  to  sit  down, 
and  he  swung  round  on  his  short  leg  on  to  the 
edge  of  a  chair,  where  he  sat  twisting  his  cap 
in  his  hands. 


Treacherous  Ground  161 

"Well?"  questioned  Erik,  turning  towards 
him. 

It  was  not  very  easy  for  the  little  shoemaker 
to  say  what  he  had  come  to  say,  and  he  smiled 
in  an  embarrassed  way  at  his  cap.  It  put 
Erik  in  a  good  humour  to  look  at  him.  His 
face,  like  that  of  so  many  shoemakers,  shone 
with  a  bluish  dampness.  His  head  was  round 
and  small,  and  covered  with  thick  black  hair, 
and  his  thin  shoemaker's  hands  were  dyed 
with  leather  and  blacking.  He  was  a  merry 
fellow,  the  only  thing  that  made  him  angry 
being  to  be  made  fun  of  by  the  girls  for  his 
deformity. 

"I  wanted, "  he  began  at  last,  "to  ask  you 
whether  you  would  have  any  objection  to  my — 
to  my  going  up  to  live  with  Peter  Troen." 

"Indeed,  Toger?  I  fancy  it's  with  Olina 
you  mean,  isn't  it?" 

"Well,  perhaps  it  is,  he  he!"  said  the  shoe- 
maker, turning  red  and  looking  down  at  his 
cap. 

Erik  got  up  and  began  to  walk  up  and  down. 
He  had  hoped  that  Olina  would  marry,  and 
now  it  was  to  be  with  this  man.  He  had  really 
nothing  to  say  in  this  matter ;  it  was  only  out 
of  courtesy  that  he  was  asked. 

"But  suppose  they  have  to  move!"  he  sud- 


162  Treacherous  Ground 

denly  thought.  "Will  he  still  have  her?.  I 
ought  to  tell  him  of  the  risk  he  runs!"  But 
once  he  had  told  this  man,  he  might  as  well  go 
up  and  tell  them  all,  and  then  ? 

Erik  continued  to  pace  up  and  down;  but 
at  last  stopped  in  front  of  the  shoemaker  and 
held  out  his  hand.  '  *  Good  luck  to  you,  then  1 ' ' 
he  said. 

"Oh,  thank  you,  thank  you!" 

"But  you're  to  promise  me  one  thing. 
You've  been  a  little  too  fond  of  strong  drink, 
and  now  you  must  turn  teetotaller." 

This  the  shoemaker  promised,  thanking 
again.  When  the  delighted  little  man  was 
gone,  Erik  remained  standing  with  one  hand 
leaning  upon  the  writing-table. 

He  was  now  responsible  for  another  human 
life  up  there. 


Chapter  VI 


The  Government  engineer,  Rein,  was  not  pop- 
ular in  the  parish.    Some  people  thought  him 
too  obstinate,  others  too  rough ;  and  he  had  had 
more  than  one  collision  both  with  the  author- 
ities and  with  private  persons.  Wits  had  often     j 
f  said  that  they  would  rather  have  to  do  with  a     / 
\  scoundrel  than  with  such  a  monomaniac  in  the 
matter  of  rectitude  as  that  Rein. 

It  was  true,  indeed,  that  he  took  his  opinions 
far  too  seriously.  In  politics,  he  would  take 
even  little  things  so  much  to  heart,  that  he 
would  lie  awake  half  the  night  worrying  over 
them.  Then,  when  he  had  given  vent  to  his 
indignation  in  a  newspaper  article,  it  often 
happened  that  his  manuscript  was  returned 
because  it  was  far  too  one-sided,  far  too  vio- 
lent; and  the  more  righteous  indignation  he 
had  to  swallow  in  this  way,  the  more  gloomy 
and  solitary  he  began  to  feel,  and  this  was  no- 
ticeable even  with  his  wife. 

168 


164  Treacherous  Ground 

Fru  Rein  lived,  as  so  many  have  done,  upon 
bright,  happy  memories  of  her  father.  He 
had  been  a  man  out  of  the  common — priest, 
schoolmaster  and  hymn-writer — an  idealist 
and  a  fighter.  He  had  suddenly  resigned  his 
living,  and  it  was  whispered  that  there  were 
affairs  with  women.  His  school  had  to  be 
given  up  directly  after  for  lack  of  pupils ;  but 
Fru  Rein  never  doubted  that  her  father  was 
the  victim  of  persecution,  and  this  shed  a  still 
more  golden  light  upon  his  memory.  This 
memory  was  her  guide  whenever  she  had  to 
make  up  her  mind  about  anything ;  and  more 
than  once,  when  defending  some  case  against 
her  husband,  she  felt,  half  unconsciously,  that 
it  was  really  her  father  whom  she  was  de- 
fending. 

Thus  there  were  often  scenes  in  the  engi- 
neer's house.  She  considered  him  far  too  scep- 
tical, and  he  thought  her  far  too  simple,  and 
though  they  were  often  quite  happy  for  a  long 
time,  yet  every  fresh  disagreement  served  to 
widen  the  rift  between  them.  Fru  Rein  often 
sat  and  pondered  the  matter,  but  it  only  be- 
came a  new  reason  for  living  over  again  the 
bright  days  of  her  youth  in  the  parsonage, 
where  she  could  see  her  white-haired  father 
moving  about  the  garden,  tending  his  flowers. 


Treacherous  Ground  165 

From  the  day  when  Rein  had  first  men- 
tioned the  quagmire  on  the  Evje  hills,  Fru 
Rein  had  instinctively  advised  him  to  do 
nothing  at  all  in  the  matter.  Erik's  idea 
seemed  to  her  so  beautiful,  that  it  reminded 
her  forcibly  of  her  father.  When  they  re- 
turned from  abroad,  and  Rein  began  to  talk 
seriously  of  interfering,  she  opposed  him  ob- 
stinately. Rein  despised  himself  a  little  for 
actually  taking  this  into  consideration;  but 
one  day  they  had  a  little  dispute  about  the  re- 
ligious instruction  for  their  children,  and  at 
last  she  exclaimed:  "I  wonder  what  you  really 
do  believe  in,  Ingvald!" 

"What  I  believe  in?" 

"Yes.  It  can't  be  very  much,  for  you  must 
needs  even  try  to  upset  a  thing  like  those  poor 
labourers'  holdings  at  Evje."  And  he,  with 
the  anger  that  only  conjugal  scenes  can  rouse 
in  a  man,  replied:  "To  put  an  end  to  this, 
Sara,  I'll  go  to  Evje  this  very  minute." 

And  he  did  it.  To  Erik,  therefore,  he  was  a 
little  colder  than  he  need  have  been,  because 
he  was  also  thinking  of  his  wife. 

Rein's  white  house  stood  in  the  shelter  of  a 
fir-cjad  promontory.  The  bay  curved  in  right 
up  to  his  garden  fence,  and  beyond  the  out- 
houses, ducks  and  geese  swam  about  in  a  large 


166  Treacherous  Ground 

pond.  Fru  Kein  was  fond  of  all  kinds  of  ani- 
mals, but  especially  birds. 

The  atmosphere  of  the  house  was  a  little 
sultry  during  the  first  few  days  after  Rein's 
visit  to  Evje,  and  the  husband  and  wife  ex- 
changed only  the  most  necessary  words  at 
table.  More  than  once  Rein  thought  to  him- 
self:  "  Goodness  me,  why  does  she  meddle  with 
things  that  she  can't  possibly  understand?" 

One  evening,  when  he  had  gone  up  to  his 
workroom  after  supper  to  smoke  and  read  the 
paper,  he  suddenly  heard  her  light  step  upon 
the  stairs,  and  she  entered  the  room.  She  was 
a  woman  of  about  thirty,  tall  and  pretty,  with 
a  bright  child's  face  beneath  a  wealth  of  fair 
hair,  and  blue,  expressive  eyes.  On  this  oc- 
casion she  was  wearing  a  light  dress,  which 
made  her  look  quite  young.  She  moved  swiftly 
and  lightly  across  the  floor,  and  sat  down  in  a 
chair  on  the  other  side  of  his  writing-table. 

"Ah,  Ingvald,"  she  began,  "this  is  really 
so  sad." 

He  cleared  his  throat,  and  pressed  down  the 
ash  in  the  bowl  of  his  pipe  with  his  finger. 
"M-yes?"  he  said,  not  quite  knowing  what  he 
should  say. 

"Sometimes  it  seems  as  if  there  were  such 
a  tremendous  distance  between  you  and  me." 


Treacherous  Ground  167 

"Oh  no;  does  it  really?" 

"To  think  that  you  can  go  and  do  things 
that — that  you  know  will  hurt  me  so." 

"Hm."  ' 

"How  did  he  take  it?"  she  asked  suddenly, 
turning  to  him. 

Rein  got  up  from  the  sofa  on  which  he  had 
been  half  lying,  and  slowly  crossed  the  room. 
"Are  we  going  to  have  still  more  of  this?"  he 
thought,  as  he  stood  looking  out  of  the  window. 

"Won't  you  answer  me  now,  either?" 

"Now  look  here,  Sara — Erik  Evje's  a  grown 
man  after  all.  It'll  be  worst  for  the  labourers ; 
but  I  think  even  they  will  thank  me. ' ' 

"And  suppose  you're  mistaken,  Ingvald? 
Do  you  know  all  you're  pulling  to  pieces?" 

"Do  you  think  I  should  interfere  in  any- 
thing like  this  without  being  sure?" 

Fru  Rein  leaned  against  the  writing-table 
and  sighed  as  she  looked  towards  the  window. 

"It  seems  such  a  pity,  Ingvald,  that  you 
should  always  be  the  one  to  set  yourself 
against  anything  new  and  good.  And  you've 
said  that  this  time  it  was  no  part  of  your  offi- 
cial duties  either." 

Ingvald  Rein  laughed  a  strange  laugh.  "Do 
you  say  that,  Sara — you  who  are  such  an 
idealist?  Do  you  think  we're  to  let  the  world 


168  Treacherous  Ground 

go  its  own  way  when  it's  no  part  of  our  official 
duty1?" 

Fru  Rein  rose  quickly,  offended  at  her  hus- 
band's having  got  the  better  of  her. 

"I  think,"  she  said,  her  voice  trembling,  "it 
would  be  nice  for  once  to  see  you  doing  a  good 
action. ' ' 

"Isn't  it  a  good  action  to  save  one's  fellow- 
creatures?" 

She  stood  leaning  against  the  table  and  look- 
ing straight  before  her.  "I've  thought  and 
thought  about  this,  Ingvald,  and  I'm  afraid 
it's  Erik  Evje's  idea  you  want  to  pick  holes 
in." 

"Oh,  indeed!"  said  Rein,  involuntarily 
bending  his  head  to  see  her  better. 

"And  you  can't  imagine  how  it  hurts  me. 
Every  day  we  see  selfishness,  deceit,  falsehood, 
hypocrisy  and  all  kinds  of  evil  around  us ;  and 
then,  for  once,  it  happens  that  a  man  shows  a 
little  ideality.  He  not  only  preaches  about  the 
poor,  but  he  actually  gives  something  that's  of 
use.  He  holds  a  thing  up  before  the  eyes  of 
every  one,  and  takes  the  lead  himself.  Nothing 
so  fine  and  great  has  been  done  in  the  district 
within  the  memory  of  man.  And  then,  Ing- 
vald, you  come  forward  and  kick  the  whole 
thing  down.  Oh,  I  can't  bear  to  think  of  it." 


Treacherous  Ground  169 

And  she  suddenly  hid  her  face  in  her  hands 
and  groaned. 

"Now,  Sara,  let's  have  done  with  these  hys- 
terics I" 

"Yes,  yes;  I  won't  mention  it  again." 

She  bent  her  head  and  compressed  her  lips. 
Rein  returned  to  the  sofa,  and  sat  pulling  his 
beard.  He  was  uncomfortable.  As  usual  he 
was  looked  upon  as  an  evil-minded  being,  be- 
cause he  had  asserted  something  that  he  was 
quite  sure  about. 

"It's  not  easy  for  the  rest  of  us,  Ingvald,  to 
live  upon  only  mathematics  and  measure- 
ments. You  think  Christianity  and  philan- 
thropy are  all  humbug." 

"When  have  I  said  that,  Sara?" 

"You  showed  it  so  often  when  you  used  to 
make  fun  of  father." 

"But,  Sara,  that's  simply  untrue!"  cried 
Rein,  rising  once  more. 

She  turned  towards  him,  and  threw  back 
her  head  to  look  at  him.  "Will  you  deny  that 
now,  Ingvald?" 

"Your  father  was  a  good  enough  man;  but 
when  it's  a  question  of  judging  about  the  quag- 
mire on  the  Evje  hills,  I  rely  more  upon  my- 
self." 

"You  rely  upon  yourself  in  everything.    Is 


170  Treacherous  Ground 

there  anything,  I  wonder,  that  you  don't  un- 
derstand. Why,  you  understand  the  bringing- 
up  *of  children,  too,  better  than  even  their 
mother." 

"I  never  said  that  I  understand  so  much. 
But  I  won't  have  my  children  brought  up  on 
lies,  even  if  their  grandfather  was  a  priest. ' ' 

"Yes,  there  you  go,  Ingvald.  But  can't  you 
leave  father  alone  in  his  grave?" 

And  with  this  the  quagmire  on  the  Evje 
hills  had  gone  over  into  their  own  world,  so 
that  they  could  continue  to  wound  one  another 
while  believing  that  it  was  still  the  labourers' 
holdings  they  were  talking  about. 

They  did  not  hear  the  sound  of  carriole 
wheels  in  the  yard,  and  they  were  standing  one 
on  either  side  of  the  writing-table,  talking  as 
angrily  as  only  married  people  who  love  one 
another  can,  and  Fru  Rein  was  on  the  point  of 
bursting  into  tears,  when  some  one  knocked 
at  the  door.  Rein  thought  it  was  the  maid,  and 
called  out  angrily,  "Come  in!"  The  door 
opened,  and  Erik  Evje  came  in. 

"Good-evening!"  he  said,  shaking  hands 
with  them  both.  "Excuse  my  making  such  a 
late  call."  But  here  he  stopped  short  and 
looked  at  them  both.  Fru  Rein  was  incapable 
of  anything  further,  and  after  passing  her 


Treacherous  Ground  171 

hand  across  her  forehead,  and  attempting 
to  say  something,  she  hastily  crossed  the  room 
and  went  out.  The  men  stood  for  a  moment 
looking  at  the  door  as  it  closed  upon  her,  and 
then  looked  at  one  another. 

"Sit  down,"  said  Rein,  pointing  to  an  arm- 
chair, and  seating  himself  at  the  writing-table. 


Chapter  VII 


Evje  sat  down  with  his  light  overcoat  on,  and 
resting  his  hat  on  his  knee,  sat  for  a  moment 
looking  at  it.  He  saw  that  he  had  come  at  an 
inopportune  moment,  but  he  could  not  well  go 
again  immediately.  Rein,  who  was  excited, 
forced  himself  to  appear  calm,  although  he 
could  not  imagine  what  Evje  had  come  for. 

To  his  surprise,  Erik  began  to  talk  quite 
quietly  about  other  things.  They  had  once 
been  school-fellows.  How  quickly  the  time 
passed.  Erik  thought  it  seemed  such  a  long 
time  ago.  Rein  looked  at  him  a  little  uncer- 
tainly, and  said  something  about  its  being 
probably  twenty  years  since  that  time. 

"And  at  that  time  neither  of  us  dreamt  that 
our  ways  would  lie  in  such  different  direc- 
tions/' Erik  went  on,  with  an  attempt  at  a 
smile. 

Rein  looked  towards  the  window,  where  the 

172 


Treacherous  Ground  173 

top  of  a  birch-tree  could  be  seen  waving  in  the 
wind.  "No,  indeed,"  he  said.  "Both  ways 
and  views  are  different." 

"But  I'd  gladly  have  changed  with  you, 
Rein,  for  yours  was  a  wise  choice.  You  gained 
happiness." 

Rein  still  looked  towards  the  window.  "Oh, 
we  needn't  talk  of  happiness,  Evje,"  he  said. 
"If  I  were  the  owner  of  the  most  beautiful 
part  of  the  district,  I  don't  think  I  should 
complain." 

"Wouldn't  you?  And  I'm  thinking  of  not 
owning  it  any  longer." 

Rein  nearly  rose  in  his  astonishment. 
"What! "he  said. 

Erik  nodded   down  at   his  hat.    Yes,   he 
meant  what  he  said. 
4    "But  surely  you  don't  mean  to  sell  it?" 

Erik  threw  his  hat  upon  the  floor,  and  rested 
his  elbows  upon  his  knees.  "Oh,  I've  not 
made  up  my  mind  yet  as  to  the  manner  of  get- 
ting rid  of  it.  The  main  thing  is  that  I  must 
probably  leave  it  all.  If  only  there  were  some- 
where to  go." 

This  all  sounded  so  impossible  to  Rein,  that 
he  did  not  know  what  to  say;  but  now  Erik 
rose,  and,  looking  at  him,  went  on:  "That's 
to  say  it  all  depends  really  upon  you." 


174  Treacherous  Ground 

There  was  a  pause,  and  Rein  looked  as- 
tonished. i  *  Upon  me  ?  "  he  said. 

"Yes." 

1  i  That  sounds  strange. ' ' 

"That's  what  I've  come  for.  To  tell  the 
truth,  I've  not  been  comfortable  since  you 
came  to  me  the  other  day."  Erik  passed  his 
hand  across  his  forehead,  and  his  expression 
was  one  of  pain.  "Many  people  would  say 
that  I  might  safely  laugh  at  your  warning,  but 
all  the  same  it's  lain  like  a  worm,  gnawing  and 
gnawing  inside  me,  so  that  I  haven't  even  been 
able  to  sleep  properly.  So  I  had  to  come  up 
and  tell  you  that  if  I'm  compelled  to  go  to 
Newland  and  ask  those  people  to  move  away, 
I  shall  feel  it  impossible  to  go  on  living  at 
Evje." 

"There!"  thought  Rein,  "I  wasn't  mis- 
taken," and  the  irritation  from  his  encounter 
with  his  wife  blazed  up  again.  There  seemed 
moreover  such  a  falseness  about  Erik's  words, 
in  spite  of  the  sincerity  in  his  voice,  that  he 
did  not  know  whether  to  be  distressed  or 
amused. 

"But  my  dear  fellow!"  he  said,  leaning 
back  in  his  chair.  "The  quagmire  doesn't 
threaten  your  house  at  all." 

"You  misunderstand  me,  Rein.    I  never  for 


Treacherous  Ground  175 

a  moment  thought  of  my  own  house.  But 
you  must  excuse  my  coming  to  ask  you  once 
more :  Is  it  absolutely  necessary  for  the  New- 
land  people  to  move?" 

Rein  took  up  a  pencil  and  began  mechani- 
cally to  draw  upon  the  blotting-paper  before 
him.  "I've  nothing  new  to  say  upon  that  sub- 
ject, Erik." 

Erik  bent  his  head.  "I  suppose  not,"  he 
said,  with  a  sigh,  and  seemed  about  to  go,  but 
hesitated,  and  turned  to  Rein  again.  "Per- 
haps you've  never  thought  very  much,  Rein, 
what  this  means  for  me  ?" 

"No,"  Rein  answered,  looking  up  from  his 
drawing.  "I've  thought  more  especially  what 
it  means  for  the  people  living  up  there." 

Erik  put  his  hands  behind  his  back,  and 
slowly  crossed  the  room.  There  was  a  pause. 
When  he  came  back,  he  stopped  and  passed 
his  hand  across  his  forehead.  "We  were^ 
speaking  of  happiness,  Rein, ' '  he  said.  i  i  There 
/comes  a  time  when  even  the  hope  in  one's" 
breast  is  worn  out.  The  disappointments  and 
defeats  have  been  so  numerous,  that  if  this 
should  be  a  failure  too,  it'll  go  no  farther.  It's 
a  little  like  the  last  match;  it  mustn't  go  out." 

Rein  was  going  on  with  his  drawing,  but 
now  looked  up,  as  if  he  understood  nothing. 


176  Treacherous  Ground 

Erik  smiled.  "I  suppose  you  think  this  is 
a  mysterious  speech,"  he  said.  "It  isn't 
pleasant  either  to  let  others  see  into  one's 
secret  chamber;  but  I  wanted  you  to  under- 
stand the  point  of  this.  When  I  go  from  here, 
it'll  be  either  one  thing  or  the  other  for  me." 

Rein  was  drawing  again.  He  had  a  sus- 
picion that  his  wife  was  in  the  next  room,  and 
could  hear  everything,  and  now  that  Erik  had 
accused  him  of  being  a  bird  of  ill  omen,  she 

would The  pencil  in  his  hand  began  to 

tremble. 

Evje  came  a  step  nearer,  and  looked  to- 
wards the  window  with  half -closed  eyes.  "It 
was  good  of  you  to  come  to  me,  Rein,"  he  said, 
"and  not  to  the  people  out  there ;  for  of  course 
it's  I  who  have  the  responsibility." 

"That's  what  I  thought,"  said  Rein,  with- 
out looking  up  from  his  pencil. 

"But  to  go  up  there  and  say:  'I've  set  you 
on  to  something  that  isn't  worth  a  penny. 
You've  been  toiling  here  all  for  nothing.  Your 
hopes  for  the  future  are  all  a  delusion.  What 
you've  thanked  me  for  is  only  a  fraud.'  Can 
you  understand  what  that  means?" 

"I  can  understand  it  may  be  unpleasant. 
But  now  that  it's  a  question  of  their  lives'?" 

Erik  looked  down,  and  said  as  if  speaking  to 


Treacherous  Ground  177 

himself:  "Yes,  of  course."  Then  he  slowly 
crossed  the  room  again,  passed  his  hand  across 
his  forehead  and  turned  to  his  companion.  ^ 
*I  say,  Rein,  how  strange  it  is  that  some 
get  their  view  of  life  so  easily,  and  when 
they've  got  it,  settle  down  with  it,  and  sail  with 
j.t  as  a  favourable  wind  to  the  end  of  their  lives., 
Et's  different  with  me.  You  know,  of  course, 
that  I've  tried  one  thing  after  another,  and 
each  time  I'd  laboriously  rolled  the  stone  up 
to  the  top  of  the  hill,  down  it  rolled  again. 
Then  I'd  set  to  work  again,  and  then  again. 
But  it  gets  heavier  each  time,  and  some  day 
it'll  be  the  last.  Honestly,  I  haven't  the  en- 
ergy to  begin  from  the  bottom  again.  And  to 
think  that  it  was  to  be  you  who — who  kicked 
it  down  this  time." 

Rein  still  kept  his  temper,  and  said  without 
looking  up :  "It  was  a  pity  it  should  be  me." 

"Oh,  of  course  you  mean  well  too,  at  least 

I  think  so,  although  they  say But  don't 

let's  talk  about  that.    I  think  you  mean  well, 

but '     He  broke  off  and  began  walking 

about  again,  seeming  quite  to  forget  that  he 
was  not  in  his  own  room.  Now  and  then  a 
pained  expression  came  over  his  face,  and  he 
passed  his  hand  across  his  forehead,  as  if  to 
relieve  it.  At  last  he  stopped  once  more. 


178  Treacherous  Ground 

"You  must  forgive  me,  Rein;  I'm  a  little 
bewildered  to-day.  And  my  coming  here  was 
only  like  clutching  at  a  straw.  You  don't 
know  how  badly  things  are  going  with  me; 
I'm  at  my  wits'  end.  You're  the  only  person 
who  could  save  me  by  speaking  one  little  word ; 
but  of  course  you  won't  do  it.  You  won't,  you 
can't  doit." 

It  became  more  and  more  difficult  for  Rein 
to  keep  calm,  for  everything  that  Erik  said 
seemed  to  be  a  reproach  against  him  person- 
ally. 

"Well,  Evje,"  he  said,  going  on  with  his 
drawing,  "I  understand  very  little  of  all  this." 

Erik  had  begun  to  walk  up  and  down  again, 
but  stopped  at  this,  pushed  his  hair  up  from 
his  forehead,  and  looked  towards  the  window. 
"Since  I've  said  so  much,  Rein,"  he  said,  "I 
may  as  well  say  the  rest.  Do  yoii  know  what  it 
means  to  feel  mentally  homeless?  It's  as  if 
you  were  naked  out  in  the  snow,  or  as  if  you 
and  every  one  else  and  the  whole  universe  were 
playing  out  of  tune,  and  it  seems  to  suffocate 
you.  I  often  felt  that ;  it  was  like  that  when 
I  came  home.  Everything  lay  in  ruins  about 
me.  To  comfort  myself  I  turned  to  the  most 
vulgar  of  all  comforts — drink.  All  this  you 
know.  But  then  a  little  ray  of  sunshine  came 


Treacherous  Ground  179 

to  me  again.  It  was  the  idea  for  these  work- 
men's holdings.  Why  it  became  a  matter  of 
conscience  with  me  to  do  a  little  good  to  others 
just  in  this  way,  is  a  thing  by  itself;  but  no 
one  knows  what  it  has  since  come  to  mean  for 
me.  There  are  so  many  forces  warring  about 
one  at  home.  I  have  duty  to  my  mother,  to  the 
family  traditions  and  the  work  and  all  that; 
and,  to  tell  the  truth,  IVe  been  growing  more 
and  more  fond  of  it.  But  money  and  business 
and  calculating  over  and  over  again — all  that's 
one  thing;  but  whether  at  the  same  time  one 
keeps  any  of  one's  soul  is  another  thing.  I'm 
one  of  those  unhappy  beings,  Rein,  who  must 
have  a  Sunday  besides  the  weekdays.  It's 
true  I  don't  go  to  church  like  you ;  it's  also  true 
that  I  don't  believe  in  what  the  priest  says. 
But  all  the  same  one  has  one's  dreams,  and 
even  a  free-thinker's  heart  has  the  need  of  a 
little  sunshine  in  its  own  way.  What  do  we 
know  after  all?  Some  people  have  a  crucifix 
on  the  wall,  and  that  for  them  betokens  peace 
of  mind ;  I  have  Newland.  Don't  you  see  then 
that — that  it  means  something?" 

Rein  raised  his  head.  "Yes,"  he  said,  "I 
understand  that;  but " 

"But?"  Erik  looked  at  him  eagerly. 


180  Treacherous  Ground 

"There  are  natural  laws,  Evje,  that  don't 
take  counsel  with  our  dreams." 

"What  natural  laws?" 

"I'm  thinking  all  the  time  of  the  quagmire 
on  the  Evje  hills.  Do  you  think  it'll  take  into 
consideration  that  you  have  need  of  a  cru- 
cifix?" 

This  inexorable  answer  was  like  a  jet  of  cold 
water  to  Erik.  He  turned  towards  the  door, 
and  took  a  few  steps  in  that  direction.  It  was 
as  though  the  mood  he  was  in  drove  him  to 
reveal  his  most  sacred  feelings  to  a  money- 
lender, who  answered  with  one  humiliation 
after  another.  But  on  the  other  side  of  that 
door  something  still  worse  waited  for  him ;  in 
here  there  was  still  a  kind  of  hope. 

At  the  door  he  turned  and  took  a  step  back 
into  the  room.  "  You  're  inexorable,  Rein," 
he  said.  "I  don't  think  I  could  be  like  you." 

"But,  dear  me,  Erik,  if  I  said  that  this  quag- 
mire business  wasn't  so  dangerous  after  all, 
do  you  think  it  would  be  any  less  dangerous 
for  that?" 

"Oh  no — no,  no."  Erik  sighed  and  looked 
down.  Then  he  picked  up  his  hat  which  had 
been  lying  on  the  floor,  gave  it  a  stroke  with 
his  hand,  and  once  more  moved  hesitatingly 
towards  the  door.  Finally  he  turned  round 


Treacherous  Ground  181 

again,    and   said   in   a   voice   that   sounded 
strangely  sad : 

"IVe  never  understood  as  I  do  now,  Rein, 
that  to  lose  his  last  ideal  can  be  the  ruin  of  a 

man." 
_  — — •* 

There  was  another  pause.  Rein  adjusted 
his  eyeglasses,  and  after  a  little  thought  said : 
"Then  you  think  that  if  a  man  has  the  choice 
between  being  ruined  himself,  or  propping 
himself  up  upon  an  ideal  that  brings  others 
into  misfortune,  he  should  first  of  all  look 
after  himself?" 

"Good  gracious,  Rein,  how  little  you  under- 
stand me.  Do  you  think  I  meant  to  lead  those 
people  into  misfortune?"  He  could  not  help 
smiling,  and  shook  his  head. 

"What  you  meant  has  very  little  to  do  with 
the  matter." 

1 1  Indeed !  That 's  something  I  didn  't  know. ' ' 

"I  don't  think  the  quagmire  will  show  much 
consideration  for  your  good  intention." 

"Good-night,  Rein!" 

"Good-night!"  answered  Rein,  breathing 
more  freely.  Was  this  to  end  at  last  ? 

But  though  Erik  had  opened  the  door,  he 
drew  back  once  more,  closed  it  again,  and  tried 
to  find  an  objection  that  would  have  an  effect 
upon  Rein.  But  both  his  voice  and  his  glance 


182  Treacherous  Ground 

seemed  quite  worn  out  as  he  said:  "I  didn't 
think  you  were  such  a  doubter,  Rein." 

"Perhaps  not,"  answered  Rein,  standing 
still  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  and  shifting  his 
glasses.  But  his  hand  trembled.  Was  he  to 
be  treated  to  still  more  of  this  before  it  came 
to  his  wife's  turn? 

"Yes,  because  you  think  that  even  if  an  ideal 
helps  us  to  be  better,  lifts  us  out  of  misery  and 
makes  us  strong  and  more  or  less  virtuous 
beings  again,  it  can  be  humbug  for  all  that." 

"I  don't  remember  ever  having  said  any- 
thing about  it." 

"And  Nature  doesn't  care  a  hang  that  we've 
staked  everything  upon  making  amends  for 
the  evil  we've  done.  That  sorrows  are  re- 
moved and  tears  dried,  that  the  poor  are 
housed  and  fed,  and  that  a  great  idea  is  raised, 
that  points  out  over  centuries  and  millions  of 
human  beings — what  the  deuce  do  the  laws  of 
nature  care  about  all  that  ?" 

"I  haven't  expressed  an  opinion  about  any- 
thing but  the  quagmire." 

"Oh  yes,  the  quagmire.  The  whole  thing  is 
so  absurd.  And  yet  we  go  about  and  fuss  and 
imagine  that  there's  something  above  that 
guides!"  He  turned  his  head  to  the  door, 
which  he  opened;  and  as  he  stepped  out,  he 


Treacherous  Ground  183 

looked  back  for  the  last  time  and  said  in  a 
tone  that  made  it  sound  like  a  little  hopeless 
cry:  "I  wish  you  could  at  any  rate  let  me  keep 
a  little  doubt. " 

"What  would  be  the  good  of  it  in  this  case  I" 

Erik  shook  his  head,  but  tried  to  smile. 

Rein  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Oh,  I  see," 
he  said.  "You  would  use  the  doubt  to  let  the 
whole  thing  slide?" 

Erik  seemed  to  admit  it. 

"You  don't  understand  the  situation,  Evje. 
YouVe  been  talking  about  yourself  all  the 
time;  but  don't  you  see  that  in  reality  this 
doesn't  concern  you?" 

Erik  looked  astonished,  and  then  broke  into 
a  scornful  laugh.  "No,  of  course  it  doesn't 
concern  me!" 

"It  concerns  first  of  all  the  people  up  there. 
It  is  their  life  that  is  being  risked.  But" — 
and  a  sarcastic  smile  passed  across  the 
speaker's  face — "I  would  suggest  your  going 
up  to  those  people  and  saying:  'Will  you  go 
on  living  here  and  daily  hazarding  your  lives, 
so  that  I  can  have  an  ideal  to  live  for?' 

"Good-night  I"  said  Erik,  stumbling  out  and 
banging  the  door;  and  Rein  did  not  go  after 
him. 

The  next  moment  another  door  opened,  and 


184  Treacherous  Ground 

Fru  Rein  stood  in  the  doorway,  pale,  and  lean- 
ing against  the  jamb. 

Rein  turned  towards  her.  "Aha!"  he  said. 
"Then  I  wasn't  mistaken.  But  now,  Sara, 
hang  it  all,  I  will  have  peace!" 

"Very  well,"  she  said,  with  a  frightened 
look  at  him.  "If  only  you  could  get  peace, 
Ingvald."  And  she  tottered  across  the  floor 
and  out  at  the  other  door. 


Chapter  VIII 


It  was  well  that  the  horse  knew  its  way  to 
Evje,  for  the  reins  hung  loose  and  the  man  in 
the  carriole  did  not  seem  to  notice  anything. 
His  head  was  sunk  upon  his  breast,  and  every 
now  and  then  his  eyes  closed  as  if  all  he  wanted 
was  to  go  to  sleep. 

But  the  horse  wanted  to  get  home,  and 
jogged  steadily  along  beside  the  fjord  in  the 
golden  light  of  evening.  Houses  appeared  to 
start  out  of  the  twilight,  and  now  and  again  a 
passer-by  took  off  his  hat. 

When  one  has  made  a  confession  out  of  one's 
innermost  soul,  there  is  a  feeling  of  emptiness 
left ;  and  because  Rein  had  been  so  inexorable, 
Erik  also  felt  foolish  and  ashamed.  When  he 
had  gone  there,  he  had  been  in  suspense,  and 
was  now  all  the  more  unbraced. 

' '  Why,  the  sun  is  still  shining  on  Southland ! ' ' 
He  raised  his  head  and  looked  at  the  farms  on 
the  other  side  of  the  fjord,  where  the  windows 
were  aflame  with  the  last  rays  of  the  setting 

185 


186  Treacherous  Ground 

sun.  "The  sun!  It  doesn't  care  either  in  the 
least  about  us  human  beings;  it's  only  by 
chance  that  it  shines  upon  us." 

He  drove  past  the  doctor's  house,  and  rec- 
ollected that  the  doctor's  daughter  was  at 
home  now.  This  brought  back  in  his  mind 
that  summer  day  on  the  steamer  the  year  be- 
fore, when  she  came  up  to  him  and  when  she 
made  the  idea  of  Newland  so  clear.  And  now  ? 

The  carriole  rolled  on,  and  his  head  sank 
upon  his  breast  again.  He  could  not  think 
any  more.  If  only  he  could  sleep  I 

"Aren't  you  going  to  get  down?"  He  was 
aroused  by  these  words,  and  found  he  was  at 
home  and  the  stableman  holding  the  horse's 
head. 

Erik  sprang  from  the  carriole,  and  went 
slowly  up  the  steps  with  the  whip  in  his  hand. 
In  the  entry  his  mother  met  him. 

"Dear  me!"  she  said,  "I  couldn't  think 
what  had  become  of  you!"  Then,  seeing  his 
face,  she  tried  to  cheer  him  a  little.  "But  I 
have  a  visitor,"  she  added,  with  a  peculiar 
smile. 

"Mother,"  he  said,  when  he  had  hung  up 
his  coat,  "it  may  be  you'll  have  to  help  me  to— 
to  pack  a  trunk  this  evening." 

* '  What  ?    Where  are  you  going  ? ' ' 


Treacherous  Ground  187 

"Oh,  I  don't  quite  know."  He  opened  the 
door  of  the  drawing-room  and  went  in.  Some- 
thing peculiar  in  the  atmosphere  struck  him, 
and  he  paused  for  a  moment.  As  he  did  so, 
the  curtains  at  the  door  into  the  next  room 
parted,  and  some  one  in  a  light  dress  appeared. 
It  was  Inga  Rud. 

"Good  evening!"  she  said  in  slight  confu- 
sion, coming  towards  him  with  outstretched 
hand.  "I'm  sure  you're  surprised  to  meet  me 
here;  but  I  came  with  a  message,  and  your 
mother  was  good  enough  to  ask  me  to  stay  to 
supper." 

"We  waited  ever  so  long  for  you,"  added 
Fru  Evje,  who  had  also  entered;  "but  at  last 
we  got  too  hungry." 

Erik  was  holding  the  little  hand  in  his,  as 
if  he  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  it.  A 
strange  chill  ran  down  his  spine.  Depressed 
as  he  was  when  he  came  in,  the  appearance  of 
this  woman  acted  as  a  revelation.  But  he  re- 
covered himself,  and  did  and  said  more  or  less 
what  he  should  have  done  and  said.  He  heard 
himself  asking  how  her  people  were,  and  he 
heard  her  say  something  about  a  horse  that 
was  ill.  "Lady"  had  a  bad  foot,  and  Inga  had 
come  to  ask  from  her  father  whether  Erik 
could  lend  him  a  horse  for  a  time. 


188  Treacherous  Ground 

To  this  Erik  answered  that  he  was  quite 
willing;  and  then  he  discovered  that  his 
mother  had  left  the  room  again,  and  that  they 
were  still  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room. 

"Sha'n't  we  sit  down?'7  he  said,  and  going 
towards  the  next  room  he  drew  aside  the  cur- 
tain and  stood  aside  to  let  her  pass. 

"Perhaps  you'd  like  one  of  the  lamps 
lighted?" 

"Oh  no,  not  on  my  account.  I  like  the 
twilight  so  much,  especially  in  the  spring." 

"Well,  there's  not  much  summer  warmth 
here  yet,"  he  said,  when  they  were  both  in  the 
room.  "  I  '11  ring  and  have  the  fire  lighted. ' ' 

"Oh  no!  We  can  light  the  fire;  the  box  is 
full  of  wood."  And  the  next  moment  she  was 
on  her  knees  in  front  of  the  stove,  getting  chips 
together.  He  had  to  help  her  with  some  shav- 
ings, and  when  at  last  the  fire  blazed  up,  they 
were  both  close  together  on  their  knees,  and 
remained  for  a  moment  watching  the  flames. 

A  little  while  after,  they  were  each  sitting 
in  an  arm-chair,  with  their  eyes  fixed  upon  the 
reflection  of  the  flame  through  the  stove  door, 
flickering  restlessly  upon  the  floor. 

"Perhaps  you  wouldn't  mind  playing  some- 
thing?" he  began.  "It's  so  seldom  we  have 


Treacherous  Ground  189 

any  music  here.  That 's  what  I  Ve  missed  most 
since  I  came  to  the  country." 

"Oh  no,  let's  talk.  Besides,  I  shall  have  to 
be  going  home  soon." 

"Very  well."  But  then  he  sighed.  "If 
only  I  knew  what  to  say.  I'm  not  good  at 
talking  to  ladies,  Froken  Rud,"  he  said,  with 
an  attempt  at  a  smile. 

She  bent  forward,  so  that  the  light  from  the 
stove  flickered  over  her  dark  hair.  "You 
haven't  been  very  happy  of  late,  Herr  Evje." 

"Oh  yes,  pretty  well." 

"I  know  what!s  happened,  and  what  it 
means  for  you.  But  the  worst  of  it  is  that 
really  and  truly  it's  all  my  fault.  I've  known 
it  all  along,  ever  since  last  year." 

Erik  looked  at  her  questioningly,  and  there 
was  a  pained  expression  on  his  face.  He  did 
not  like  this  woman  to  sit  and  pity  him. 

"And  many  a  time  I've  wanted  to  come  and 
warn  you."  Her  voice  trembled  and  grew  al- 
most tender.  "But  I  hadn't  the  courage.  I — 
I  knew  it  would  hurt  you  so. ' ' 

It  was  a  confession  of  interest,  but  now  it 
was  said,  and  involuntarily  she  moved  her 
chair  a  little  farther  from  his. 

"That  was  kind  of  you,"  he  said,  with  bowed 
head.  Again  he  felt  a  shiver  run  down  his 


190  Treacherous  Ground 

back.  Ah,  so  much  had  happened  to-day ;  was 
there  still  something  else  going  to  happen? 

"Perhaps  it  was  unkind  of  me — in  a  way. 
But  it  wasn't  easy  for  me  either.  You  don't 
know  what  a  long  year  it's  been." 

Erik  would  have  asked  how  she  could  have 
known  it,  she  alone,  ever  since  last  year;  but 
the  fact  that  she  had  been  suffering  a  whole 
year  for  his  sake  made  him  forget  the  other 
thing. 

She  went  on,  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  light 
at  the  stove  door:  " There  were  so  many  who 
objected  to  you  at  that  time;  and  there  must 
be  some  one  to  stand  upon  your  side." 

He  could  not  believe  his  ears.  Her  words 
were  like  a  caress,  and  he  felt  himself 
strangely  helpless. 

"That  was  good  of  you.    Thank  you!" 

Then  he  asked  her  whether  she  thought 
there  was  as  much  danger  as  Rein  said;  and 
she,  having  allowed  herself  to  say  so  much, 
could  only  say  that  Rein  always  exaggerated. 

They  talked  a  little  more  about  Rein,  the 
quagmire  and  Newland ;  but  all  the  time  they 
both  felt  that  they  were  really  talking  about 
love. 

"And  so,"  he  said,  in  order  to  get  her  to  say 
it  once  more,  "you've  known  this  for  a  whole 
year,  but " 


Treacherous  Ground  191 

She  raised  her  head  and  looked  at  him  be- 
seechingly. "Yes;  but  you  mustn't  be  angry 
with  me.  I  know  it  was  wrong  of  me  to  keep 
silent,  but  the  idea  was  so  beautiful.  Do  you 
remember  when  we  met  on  the  steamer  last 
year?  You  told  me  about  your  plans;  I  was 
the  first  person  you  had  mentioned  them  to. 
You  seemed  a  different  being  when  you  stood 
there  and  described  it  all  to  me.  And  after- 
wards— no,  afterwards  I  couldn't  come  and 
destroy  it." 

There  was  a  silence,  broken  only  by  the 
crackling  of  the  fire.  Inga  leaned  forward, 
with  her  hands  in  her  lap.  Erik  sat  leaning 
back  in  his  chair,  with  one  leg  crossed  over  the 
other. 

"Yes;  I  remember,  too,  the  day  we  met  last 
year.  It  was  a  wonderful  day  for  me. ' ' 

Once  more  she  moved  a  little  farther  from 
him,  as  if  she  were  afraid  of  what  he  would  say 
next.  Then  they  talked  again  about  the  quag- 
mire and  the  danger  the  people  were  in;  but 
he  once  more  returned  to  the  same  question. 

"Fancy  that  you  knew  it!" 

"If  only  you  could  believe  that  I  kept  si- 
lence so  as  not  to  spoil  it  for  you."  And  each 
time  she  repeated  this,  her  voice  grew  gentler 
and  warmer;  and  for  him,  to  talk  about  the 


192  Treacherous  Ground 

quagmire,  the  danger  the  people  were  in,  and 
a  possible  catastrophe,  became  something 
almost  bright  and  wonderful,  because  it  had 
been  the  cause  of  her  thinking  about  him  for 
so  long. 

"Poor  thing!"  he  said,  venturing  now  to 
take  her  hand. 

"Do  you  pity  me?  Then  what  about  your- 
self?" 

"Oh,  I'm  so  used  to  adversity." 

In  a  little  while  she  said,  as  she  gently  with- 
drew her  hand:  "You  don't  know  how  often 
I've  thought  about  that  too." 

She  raised  her  eyes  from  the  fire  to  his  face, 
and  looked  at  him  with  a  melancholy  smile. 

"Are  you  sitting  in  the  dark?"  It  was  Pru 
Evje,  who  had  come  in. 

Inga  Bud  started  up  and  said  it  was  late, 
and  she  must  be  going  at  once  or  they  would  be 
anxious  about  her  at  home.  Erik  offered  to 
drive  her,  but  she  declined ;  she  thought  it  was 
such  splendid  weather  for  walking. 

"Then  you  must  go  with  her  on  foot  at  any 
rate,"  said  Fru  Evje ;  and  to  this  Erik  had  no 
objection. 

A  little  while  after  the  two  young  people 
came  out  on  to  the  doorstep,  dressed  for  their 
walk.  Everything  around  was  still,  the  doors 


Treacherous  Ground  193 

all  closed,  and  the  servants  gone  to  bed.  And 
these  two  set  off  alone  down  the  avenue  in  the 
grey  light  of  the  spring  night. 

Some  hours  later  Erik  Evje  was  standing 
at  the  window  in  his  room  and  looking  at  the 
sun  as  it  rose  above  the  hills  in  the  east.  The 
still  waters  of  the  fjord  were  coloured  by  it, 
and  Nature  awoke ;  but  as  yet  no  human  being 
was  out,  for  it  was  only  three  o'clock,  and  only 
the  sea-birds  were  talking  down  on  the  shore. 

Erik  had  undressed,  but  could  not  go  to  bed. 
He  looked  at  the  blood-red  sun  and  smiled, 
then  at  the  fjord  and  the  hills  and  smiled  still 
more.  A  little  while  ago  he  had  been  down  in 
darkness  and  despair,  and  now  he  was  up 
among  golden  clouds.  He  felt  inclined  to  burst 
into  tears  or  to  roar  with  laughter.  He  could 
thank  the  fates  for  the  quagmire  in  Newland, 
for  without  that  she  would  never  have  found 
her  way  to  him.  How  wonderfully  things 
were  connected !  "If  only  we  love  one  another, 
everything  will  come  right,  you'll  see,"  she  had 
said.  He  still  felt  her  kiss,  warm  and  living, 
upon  his  lips. 

He  remained  standing  at  the  window  in  a 
dazed  condition  until  the  bell  rang  to  wake  the 
farm-hands. 


BOOK  III 


Chapter  I 


In  order  that  the  Newland  people  could  earn 
a  daily  wage,  Erik  had  given  them  regular 
work  at  the  sawmill ;  but  he  also  decided  that 
they  should  have  one  day  free  in  each  week, 
so  that  they  could  work  on  their  own  land  at 
home.  Up  the  little,  secluded  valley,  out  of 
which  rose  the  sound  of  the  rushing  river,  the 
forest  began  to  give  place  more  and  more  to 
fields  and  clearings.  With  the  aid  of  their 
daily  earnings,  the  settlers  were  able  to  finish 
their  houses  more  quickly  than  settlers  usually 
do.  Now  the  houses  stood  in  a  row  upon  the 
hill,  each  on  its  piece  of  land ;  and  not  a  win- 
dow was  left  unglazed,  most  of  the  walls  were 
boarded,  and  old  Peter  Troen  was  busy  paint- 
ing his  cottage  red,  in  time  for  Olina's  wed- 
ding. 

The  one  who  seemed  to  have  done  best  was 
Bertil.  His  little  white-painted  cottage  was 
like  a  polished  box;  there  were  flowers  in  the 

197 


198  Treacherous  Ground 

windows,  the  yard  was  always  strewn  with 
sand,  and  fresh  fir-boughs  were  always  lying 
at  the  foot  of  the  steps.  This  was  indeed  a 
necessity,  for  Ingeborg  kept  everything  so 
well  polished  and  clean  inside,  that  people  had 
to  rub  their  feet  a  long  time  before  they  dared 
to  go  in. 

But  even  Bertil's  fields  had  an  air  of  being 
well  cared  for,  and  the  reason  probably  was 
that  no  sooner  had  he  come  home  from  the 
sawmill  and  had  something  to  eat,  than  he 
took  a  spade  and  went  out  again.  The  even- 
ings were  so  light,  and  here  on  his  own  land  he 
felt  happy.  No  one  could  say  exactly  what 
he  did  with  the  spade,  but  he  left  the  ground 
as  smooth  and  clean  as  if  he  had  carefully 
broken  every  lump  of  earth. 

It  was  out  there  that  Bertil  felt  quite  at 
home;  for  to  tell  the  truth  it  was  a  little  too 
fine  for  him  up  in  the  cottage.  He  did  not 
always  remember  to  take  off  his  muddy  shoes 
before  he  went  over  the  floor;  and  if  he  was 
so  thoughtless  as  to  lie  down  on  the  bed  for 
his  afternoon  nap,  Ingeborg  made  the  atmos- 
phere of  the  cottage  oppressive  for  days  after. 

In  her  heart  of  hearts,  Ingeborg  was  not 
happy.  This  was  not  what  she  had  imagined 
it  would  be,  when  year  after  year  she  used  to 


Treacherous  Ground  199 

look  across  from  the  other  side  of  the  fjord. 
She  was  here  now,  and  there  was  nothing  far 
off  to  look  for  any  longer ;  but  when  she  strove, 
as  she  did,  to  keep  everything  clean  and  bright, 
it  was  from  an  indefinable  desire  to  make 
her  disappointment  as  small  as  possible. 

There  was  something,  too,  that  she  could 
never  get  out  of  her  head,  and  that  was  the 
thought  of  her  mother,  who  was  perhaps  turn- 
ing in  her  grave. 

Ingeborg  began  to  be  very  religious.  Every 
evening  she  sang  a  long  hymn,  and  Bertil 
tried  to  follow  in  the  hymn-book,  although  he 
did  not  know  the  tune;  and  then,  while  she 
read  a  long  discourse  from  a  book  of  family 
sermons,  he  sat  by  the  window  looking  over 
the  fjord  towards  the  shore  where  the  real 
Ingeborg  still  went  about.  It  was  for  that 
view  that  he  had  dragged  the  cottage  up  there 
upon  his  back. 

It  was  so  beautiful  over  there  of  an  evening 
now.  The  windows  in  the  houses  were  often 
aflame  long  after  the  sun  had  gone  down.  He 
would  sit  there  looking  across  so  long  that  he 
would  fancy  himself  back  in  his  bachelor  days, 
and  want  to  send  a  message  over  to  Ingeborg 
again,  and  say  that  everything  should  be  as 
it  used  to  be  between  them. 


200  Treacherous  Ground 

The  only  one  who  did  not  work  at  the  saw- 
mill was  Lars  Brovold.  He  preferred  felling 
timber  miles  away  in  the  forest,  and  he  was 
often  away  several  weeks  at  a  time.  Bad 
reports  of  him  began  to  spread.  Most  of  what 
he  earned  he  spent  on  drink,  and  the  rest  in 
card-playing ;  and  on  the  rare  occasions  when 
he  was  at  home,  he  would  ill-treat  both  his 
wife  and  the  children^ 

No  one  could  understand  what  made  Petra 
so  cheerful.  She  had  no  one  to  help  her  man- 
age the  little  farm,  she  had  two  children,  and 
had  to  spin  and  weave  to  earn  the  money  that 
her  neighbours'  wives  got  from  their  hus- 
bands; and  yet  when  the  big,  red-haired 
woman  was  out  in  the  fields,  with  the  two  chil- 
dren sitting  in  the  grass,  she  could  be  heard 
singing  as  pleased  and  happy  as  anyone 
could  be. 

She  could  not  forget  how  strangely  she  had 
been  saved  from  being  sent  away  from  Evje 
with  her  two  children;  and  even  if  Lars  was 
a  little  unmanageable  now  and  then,  he  might 
improve  as  many  others  had  done. 

The  reason  why  Lars  did  not  get  on  at  home 
was  not  only  connected  with  Petra.  It  was 
chiefly  because  of  the  neighbour  he  had  been 
so  anxious  to  get.  To  know  that  Kristina  was 


Treacherous  Ground  201 

so  near,  and  another  man's  wife,  to  see  her 
go  in  and  out  at  the  door,  busy  with  her  work, 
to  see  the  smoke  rise  from  her  hearth  and 
know  that  it  was  for  another  she  was  cooking, 
and  to  know  that  it  could  never,  never  be  done 
over  again,  this  gradually  so  oppressed  him 
that  he  dreaded  each  time  that  he  had  to  go 
home  and  see  it  all  once  more. 

When  he  had  been  a  week  with  his  fellow- 
woodcutters  far  away  in  the  forest,  he  could 
actually  begin  to  forget  that  he  was  married. 
Then  his  spirits  would  rise  a  little,  and  he 
would  begin  to  talk  about  girls  like  a  young 
bachelor,  and  the  old  dreams  would  come 
back.  He  saw  himself  in  uniform  in  church 
again,  and  the  girls  putting  their  heads  to- 
gether and  stealing  glances  at  him.  But  there 
was  one  not  there,  and  that  was  Kristina. 
There  was  no  use  now  in  going  to  church  in 
uniform  for  her  sake. 

' '  But  you  're  a  married  man ! ' '  one  of  his  com- 
panions would  say,  when  his  tongue  ran  on 
about  girls.  It  was  like  a  slap  in  the  face,  and 
he  would  become  silent,  and  then  steal  away 
and  sit  by  himself  and  mope.  And  as  he  lay  by 
himself  under  a  tree,  feeling  ill  and  miserable, 
a  strange  sound  would  come  into  his  mind.  It 
was  like  an  old  wordless  song,  memories  of 


202  Treacherous  Ground 

the  time  when  he  minded  goats  on  the  heath. 
And  now  it  was  as  though  he  gathered  the 
sorrows  and  joys  into  a  ram's  horn,  and  sent 
the  tones  far,  far  out  over  distant  moors. . 

And  he  would  lie  there  and  put  the  whole 
thing  together,  his  marriage  with  a  girl  older 
than  himself,  the  knowledge  that  he  could 
never  be  anything  in  the  world,  that  Kristina 
belonged  to  another,  and  that  he  himself 
drank  and  lost  his  money  at  cards — ho  ho ! — it 
would  be  a  long  wordless  song  to  blow  into  the 
horn,  far  out  towards  the  great  sky  out  there 
behind  all  forests. 

"Oh,  doodeli  doo! 
Oh,  doodeli  doo! 
Oh,  doodeli,  doodeli  doo!" 

When  the  time  came  for  him  to  go  home 
again  for  a  while,  he  had  to  have  more  brandy. 


Chapter  II 


Erik  and  Inga's  wedding  was  fixed  for  late  in 
the  autumn,  and  almost  every  day  Inga  came 
to  Evje  Farm  to  help  her  future  mother-in- 
law  with  one  thing  or  another;  but  she  also 
had  a  suspicion  that  in  spite  of  everything 
Erik  had  his  gloomy  moments,  which  he  tried 
to  hide,  and  she  did  not  feel  easy  in  her  mind 
unless  she  had  a  talk  with  him  every  day. 

She  was  not  mistaken  either.  When  the 
poor  man  inherits  a  fortune,  he  quickly  be- 
comes accustomed  to  his  wealth,  and  imme- 
diately brings  new  troubles  on  himself.  Dur- 
ing the  first  few  days  after  his  engagement, 
Erik  had  gone  about  like  a  smiling  somnam- 
bulist, and  his  first  thought  on  waking  in  the 
morning  was,  "It  isn't  a  dream,  it's  true!" 
But  at  last  the  morning  came  when  he  did  not 
say  it,  because  he  knew  it  too  well.  A  little 
later  he  had  to  acknowledge  to  himself  that 
that  painful  matter  with  Rein  was  not  by  any 
means  done  with  because  he  was  going  to 

203 


204  Treacherous  Ground 

marry  this  wonderful  woman.  He  wondered 
what  steps  Rein  would  take;  and  when  he 
met  any  of  the  Newland  people,  he  felt  a 
strange  fear  that  they  might  already  know 
what  threatened  them,  and  had  come  to  say 
that  they  would  leave  the  place. 

Newland  had  never  been  so  precious  to  Erik 
as  now.  It  had  a  close  personal  connection 
with  his  present  happiness.  Inga  had  con- 
fessed that  he  had  become  a  different  man 
in  her  eyes  that  summer  day  on  board  the 
steamer,  when  he  told  her  about  hisddea. 

How  could  he  at  the  same  time  put  himself 
in  the  place  of  the  Newland  people,  and  look 
at  the  matter  from  that  side  ?  He  was  always 
thinking  of  this  danger  of  a  landslip,  but  was 
only  concerned  with  what  he  himself  would 
lose ;  and  this  time  it  was  not  money,  property, 
honour  or  esteem,  but  a  moral  quality  that  he 
had  been  at  great  pains  to  gain. 

" Really,"  he  thought  again  and  again,  "I 
became  a  different  being  then."  And  he  abso- 
lutely fondled  this  moral  value  in  himself  that 
she  had  liked,  but  which  Rein  wanted  to  rob 
him  of. 

He  had  a  great  deal  to  do  with  his  new 
schemes,  and  now  he  was  working  for  two,  and 
planning  for  two — at  least.  But  in  the  midst 


Treacherous  Ground  205 

of  writing  lie  would  suddenly  raise  his  head 
and  lean  back  for  a  moment  to  sun  himself 
in  the  thought  of  her,  always  accompanied  by 
the  idea  that  had  brought  them  together.  He 
saw  himself  on  the  steamer  that  bright  sum- 
mer day,  pale  and  languid,  with  all  his 
thoughts  down  in  a  dank  gloom.  And  then 
she  came.  "Good-day,  Herr  Evje!"  And  he 
rises  in  confusion,  dazzled  by  her  nearness; 
and  her  face,  with  the  beautiful  dark  eye- 
brows, smiles  at  him,  and  warms  his  frozen 
heart.  He  feels  that  he  is  ugly  and  unpleas- 
ant, but  he  has  recourse  to  this  idea  to  adorn 
himself  with,  like  a  little  red  favour  upon  his 
poor  soul.  "But  that  is  splendid,  Herr  Evje. 
I  wish  you  every  success ! ' '  And  her  eyes  light 
up  when  she  looks  at  him.  Was  not  that  a 
wonderful  time  f  While  his  gloomy  ideas  are 
being  drawn  out  into  the  light  of  day,  this  one 
illuminates  him  and  makes  him  beautiful  in 
her  eyes.  For  him  it  had  up  to  that  time  only 
been  like  a  clay  bird,  made  by  his  clumsy 
hands;  but  she  breathed  upon  it  and  said, 
"Fly!"  and  it  became  alive  and  flew.  It  gave 
him  marrow  and  backbone;  and  strength  of 
will  and  good  spirits  again.  But  Rein  came 
and  said  to  Inga :  "What  you Ve  loved  in  Erik 
Evje  is  only  humbug." 


206  Treacherous  Ground 

He  would  sit  thus  and  let  his  thoughts  run 
on  until  he  became  so  melancholy  that  he  did 
not  know  what  to  do. 

One  day  Inga  got  him  to  go  with  her  to  see 
her  uncle,  a  famous  painter,  who  was  a  pro- 
fessor at  an  art  school  in  Germany,  and  who 
had  now  hired  a  house  up  there  for  the  sum- 
mer. 

The  house  was  up  on  the  hill,  not  far  beyond 
the  Evje  lands. 

When  they  had  come  out  of  the  wood  and 
passed  through  the  garden  gate,  they  heard 
the  sound  of  music  from  the  house ;  but  down 
among  the  flower-beds  was  a  little  man  in  a 
white  coat,  weeding.  " There  he  is!"  said 
Inga.  The  little  man  stood  up,  moved  his 
spectacles,  and  made  a  grimace  at  being  dis- 
turbed; but  all  of  a  sudden  he  rushed  up  to 
them,  crying:  "Why,  Gott  in  Himmel,  is  it 
you,  Inga?" 

The  music  indoors  ceased,  and  soon  a  little 
grey-haired  lady  came  out  on  to  the  verandah 
with  a  white  shawl  over  her  shoulders.  It  was 
the  little  man's  wife. 

"Oh,  how  nice!"  she  said. 

Erik  had  seldom  met  such  pleasant  people. 
Nothing  would  do  but  that  the  two  young 
people  should  stay  to  supper.  The  professor 


Treacherous  Groivnd  207 

took  it  into  his  head  that  he  would  prepare 
the  meal  this  time,  and  his  wife  smiled  and 
told  them  that  he  had  done  that  once  before, 
but  that  he  had  put  mustard  in  the  tea  and 
boiled  the  eggs  for  an  hour  and  a  half.  The 
professor  laughed,  his  wife  laughed,  and  the 
other  two  enjoyed  the  way  the  two  old  people 
kept  poking  fun  at  one  another. 

While  they  were  sitting  out  on  the  verandah 
after  supper,  the  little  professor  wandered 
about  and  enlarged  with  delight  upon  the  joy 
of  being  at  home  again.  He  kept  himself 
informed  of  all  that  that  gone  on  when  he  was 
abroad,  and  saw  everything  at  home  in  a  kind 
of  glory  of  home-sick  longing.  There  was  no 
place  like  Norway.  "Look  there!  Isn't  that 
wonderfully  beautiful?"  he  exclaimed  sud- 
denly, spreading  out  his  arms  towards  the 
mountains  and  the  open  fjord,  across  which 
the  sinking  sun  in  the  west  laid  a  great  burn- 
ing column.  "Look  there!  Can  you,  in  the 
whole  wide  world,  find  anything  to  equal 
that?" 

Then  he  patted  his  wife's  cheek,  but  sud- 
denly turned  to  Erik.  "And  you,"  he  said, 
moving  his  spectacles,  "you've  founded  quite 
an  ideal  community  up  there.  Wasn't  it  you, 
Inga,  who  wrote  to  me  about  it  last  winter?" 


208  Treacherous  Ground 

"I  may  have  mentioned  it  in  a  letter,"  she 
answered,  at  the  same  time  sending  Erik  a 
radiant  glance  that  said:  "See  how  I  thought 
about  you  even  then." 

The  professor  was  instantly  ready  to  trot 
up  and  down  and  rave  about  the  time  when 
every  single  family  would  have  its  own  house 
and  garden.  But  though  Erik  was  .flattered 
at  the  great  man's  interest,  he  could  not  help 
at  last  saying:  " There  are,  unfortunately,  a 
few  people  who  prophesy  evil  about  that 
matter." 

"Prophesy?"  exclaimed  the  little  man, 
stopping  and  directing  his  spectacles  at  Erik. 
"If  you  start  anything  good,  you  must  be  pre- 
pared for  prophecies." 

"What  do  they  prophesy?"  asked  the  little 
old  lady,  looking  up  from  her  work. 

Erik  had  hardly  said  what  it  was  before  the 
professor  made  a  grimace  and  threw  out  his 
hands.  "What  nonsense!"  he  cried.  "Nor- 
wegian land  not  able  to  support  a  few  match- 
boxes of  houses!  Ha  ha!  It  must  be  a  bird 
of  ill  omen  that  prophesies  things  like  that." 
And  he  grew  angry,  and  trotted  up  and  down 
more  excitedly,  while  he  tried  to  relight  his 
cigar.  It  was  evident  that  he  would  not  hear 
of  any  fault  in  his  beloved  Norwegian  land, 


Treacherous  Ground  209 

upon  which  he  had  at  last  set  foot  again;  it 
disturbed  his  ideal  of  the  country  about  which 
he  had  just  spoken  so  enthusiastically. 

"What  nonsense !"  he  repeated.  "A  land- 
slip on  the  Evje  hills,  because  the  land  had 
become  a  blessing  to  a  whole  lot  of  poor  crea- 
tures ?  Don't  you  be  alarmed,  my  friend.  That 
land  up  there  has  lain  quiet  for  many  a  win- 
ter's day  before  now." 

It  was  the  first  time  Erik  had  talked  to  any 
one  who  spoke  a  comforting  word  so  de- 
cisively. It  was  true  that  the  professor  could 
not  give  an  opinion  as  an  expert;  but  in  this 
matter  Rein  could  not  be  absolutely  certain 
either.  The  whole  thing  was  a  question  of  ven- 
turing— or  not  venturing. 

"What  would  you  have  done  in  my  place, 
Professor?"  he  asked.  "Would  you,  on  the 
word  of  another  man,  have  gone  up  and  asked 
them  to  leave  the  place?" 

The  professor  adjusted  his  spectacles  and 
looked  at  his  wife.  * '  What  do  you  say,  Lisa  ? ' ' 

The  old  lady  looked  at  him  with  a  glance 
full  of  reminiscence.  "Oh,  we  two,"  she  said, 
"we  two  have  always  stuck  to  what  we  had 
begun." 

"Yes,  we  have,"  said  her  husband,  begin- 
ning to  trot  up  and  down  again  and  to  talk 


210  Treacherous  Ground 

about  his  own  doings,  about  the  time  when  he 
broke  with  the  Diisseldorf  school.  They  had 
prophesied  all  kinds  of  evil  for  him,  but  look 
how  things  had  turned  out !  No,  a  man  should  I 
go  straight  ahead,  or  he'll  never  be  anything/ 
"If  I'd  listened  to  the  prophets  then,  I  should 
never  have  found  myself,  never."  And  both 
the  professor  and  those  who  listened  to  him 
had  a  distinct  impression  that  he  was  giving 
Erik  Evje  good  advice,  although  all  the  time 
he  was  trotting  up  and  down  and  talking  about 
the  Diisseldorf  school  and  himself . 

As  the  two  young  people  walked  homewards 
in  the  light  June  evening,  they  both  felt  in 
such  good  spirits  that  they  now  and  then  put 
their  arms  around  one  another,  and  joked  and 
laughed. 

Inga's  light  summer  dress  looked  almost 
white  against  the  green  fir-trees,  and  the  wide 
brim  of  her  straw  hat  waved  up  and  down  at 
every  step.  Down  by  the  water  they  stood 
still  and  looked  out  over  the  fjord,  whose 
smooth  surface  reflected  the  blue  sky  and 
the  heavy,  reddish-grey  clouds.  An  eider- 
duck  with  her  young  ones  glided  past,  the 
mother  fussily  careful,  the  little  ones  like  balls 
of  feathers,  working  hard  to  keep  up,  but 
leaving  such  tiny  rings  behind  them  on  the 
water. 


Treacherous  Ground  211 

"Have  you  noticed,"  said  Erik,  "that  this 
year  there's  something  new  among  the  eider- 
ducks?  There's  always  a  lady  companion 
with  the  mother  and  the  young  ones,  or  per- 
haps it 's  a  nurse. ' '  And  he  pointed  to  another 
eider-duck  going  behind  them  . 

She  leaned  her  arm  upon  his  shoulder  and 
smiled  at  the  birds.  "And  I,"  she  said  at 
last,  "I  suppose  I  shall  have  a  lady  companion 

too,  or "  She  stopped  suddenly,  and 

picked  up  a  small  stone. 

"Yes,  or  a  nurse,"  he  added. 

"Be  quiet!"  she  said,  blushing  a  little;  but 
the  eyes  of  both  rested  with  fresh  interest 
upon  the  little  birds,  as  the  little  waves  rocked 
them  up  and  down  on  the  water. 

"Do  you  think  Rein  is  happy  with  his 
wife?"  asked  Erik  suddenly. 

She  looked  at  him  quickly.  She  had  thought 
that  his  thoughts  were  busy  with  their  future, 
which  these  young  birds  had  reminded  them 
of.  But  once  more  the  same  everlasting 
anxiety  had  dragged  him  away  from  that,  and 
she  was  quite  unnecessary. 

She  answered  a  little  coldly:  "No,  I  don't 
on  the  whole  think  that  man's  troubled  with 
affection." 

"Ye-es,"  said  Erik.    "People  like  Rein  suf- 


212  Treacherous  Ground 

fer  perhaps  most  themselves.  He's  got  a 
splinter  in  his  eye,  and  sees  the  whole  world 
in  a  magic  mirror/' 

But  Inga  knew  all  too  well  that  it  was  really 
not  Rein  at  all  that  Erik  was  talking  about. 
For  a  moment  he  had  been  with  her  in  an 
idyll  while  they  looked  at  the  eider-duck  and 
her  little  ones;  but  suddenly  he  had  seen  the 
bird  of  prey  above  them,  the  daily  scruples  and 
anxiety  always  about  the  same  thing,  which 
now  began  to  be  a  disease  in  him. 

This  must  be  put  an  end  to,  and  suddenly  a 
bold  thought  came  to  her.  "I  say!"  she  said; 
"I  think  we  should  go  up  to  Newland  this 
evening." 

He  looked  at  her  quickly.  "What?  What 
should  we  go  up  there  for?" 

Her  face  suddenly  assumed  an  energetic  ex- 
pression. "Well,  we  may  just  as  well  go  up 
now,  for  it'll  have  to  be  done  some  time." 

"Really?" 

She  slipped  her  hand  through  his  arm.  "I 
think  we  should  tell  them  the  truth,  Erik,  for 
it  can't  always  be  hidden. 

He  became  angry.  "Truth!  Truth!  Are 
you  beginning  to  hold  with  Rein,  too?" 

"Why,  dear  me,  Erik,  surely  it's  better  that 
you  prepare  them  for  what  Rein  says,  than 


Treacherous  Ground  213 

that  it  should  come  from  others  ?  Then  the 
people  up  there  can  decide  for  themselves 
whether  they'll  remain  there  or  not.  And  then, 
of  course,  you  won't  have  any  responsibility 
any  longer." 

Erik  pushed  back  his  straw  h'at  and  looked 
down.  "Yes,"  he  allowed;  "perhaps  that 
wasn't  such  a  bad  idea." 

* '  No,  is  it,  Erik  ?  Come  along,  then. ' '  And 
she  drew  him  with  her. 

But  he  still  resisted.  Suppose  they  alarmed 
them  quite  unnecessarily,  so  that  they  did  not 
dare  to  live  there  another  day. 

"Oh,  nonsense!  Those  people  have  com- 
mon-sense too.  But  even  if  it  were  to  be  as 
bad  as  that,  it  would  be  better  to  put  an  end 
to  it.  As  things  are  now,  you  think  a  great 
deal  more  about  Rein  than  about  me." 

"Yes,"  he  said  again,  passing  his  hand 
across  his  forehead.  "And  I  should  like  to 
have  done  with  this." 

They  went  part  of  the  way  homewards  along 
the  fjord,  he  trying  to  talk  of  other  things; 
but  as  they  approached  the  river  where  the 
road  turned  up  over  the  cliffs  to  Newland,  he 
began  making  excuses  again.  Anyhow  it  was 
too  late  to  go  up  there  this  evening.  They 
might  have  gone  to  bed. 


214  Treacherous  Ground 

But  Inga  took  his  arm  again,  and  drew  him 
along.  "Just  you  come!"  she  said  as  gaily 
as  she  could.  "It's  no  good  your  making  any 


more  excuses.' 


They  crossed  the  river,  which  thundered 
beneath  the  red  wooden  bridge,  and  Erik 
stopped  for  a  moment,  and  looked  down  into 
the  yellowish-blue  water.  "Is  it  you,"  he 
thought,  "who  will  one  day  wash  Newland 
away?"  For  an  instant  he  gazed  into  the 
question  of  the  mighty,  blind,  natural  laws, 
which  do  not  consider  either  evil  or  good  in 
the  world.  Was  it  so  ?  Was  this  river  stronger^ 
than  a  great,  beautiful  idea  ?  Man,  driven  by 
a  divine  desire  for  the  good,  may  build  for  the 
good  and  happiness  of  perhaps  thousands,  but 
a  little  river  is  enough  to  hurl  it  all  into  the 
abyss.  Was  it  so  ?  And  he  seemed  to  see  the 
fate  of  Rein — scepticism,  Mephistopheles, 
hatred  of  all  that  was  bright  and  good  in  the 
world.  He  had  the  laws  of  nature  upon  his  / 
side. 

"Come  now!"  said  Inga,  drawing  him  on. 

A  little  way  farther  up  he  stopped.  "Your 
uncle,  Inga,  is  a  great  optimist.  How  it 
freshens  one  up  to  be  with  a  man  who  looks  at 
everything  so  brightly." 


Treacherous  Ground  215 

"Oh,  you'll  come  to  look  at  things  just  as 
brightly  some  day,  too,  Erik." 

"If  I  could  only  think  so!"  he  sighed,  as 
he  moved  on  with  her  again.  But  the  way 
was  more  toilsome  than  it  had  ever  been  be- 
fore. It  was  as  though  he  were  voluntarily 
going  up  to  his  little  community  and  putting 
himself  to  shame  in  their  eyes.  And  suppose 
they  were  to  leave  the  place  this  very  evening ! 

Erik  kept  on  stopping  to  take  breath.  A 
number  of  scenes  from  the  past,  connected  in 
one  way  or  another  with  Newland,  passed  be- 
fore his  mind's  eye.  He  saw  himself  alone 
among  the  merry-makers  that  17th-of-May 
evening.  That  was  when  this  idea  was  born, 
coming  to  him  like  a  friend  offering  him  his 
hand.  '  *  I  will  be  with  you ;  you  shall  no  longer 
be  alone. "  Then  he  remembered  the  long, 
torturing  nights  with  pricks  of  conscience  and 
painful  memories,  when  he  sought  in  vain  for 
comfort  and  relief  outside  himself,  in  which 
to  forget  himself.  And  then  came  again  this 
idea  like  a  bright  power  that  paid,  as  it  were, 
his  debt  of  sin,  and  allowed  him  to  be  young 
and  happy  again.  And  finally  it  was  his  home, 
when  sunk  deep  in  drink  and  despair  he  seized 
upon  this  idea  as  on  a  life-buoy.  The  farm 
foreman  came.  Now  or  never.  And  from 


216  Treacherous  Ground 

that  time  the  nights  grew  brighter  than  be- 
fore: he  felt  no  fear  of  falling  asleep.  He 
was  once  more  connected  with  something  that 
pointed  out  over  his  own  short  life ;  indeed,  he 
had  actually  began  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  a  sky 
that  was  no  longer  quite  so  indifferent  and 
empty. 

And  now — in  a  few  minutes  he  would  be 
standing  and  pulling  the  whole  thing  to  pieces. 

When  they  came  to  the  gate  into  the  out- 
field, he  stopped  again  and  looked  back.  "No !" 
he  said,  passing  his  hand  across  his  forehead ; 
"I  won't  go  any  farther,  Inga.  You  must 
know  it's  too  late  this  evening." 

1  i  Come  now !  Come  now ! ' '  She  had  already 
opened  the  gate  and  was  standing  holding  it 
open  for  him. 

"No;  don't  you  hear?  I  won't  go  any 
farther."  And  he  sat  down  on  a  stone  and 
pulled  a  blade  of  grass,  which  he  began  to 
twist  between  his  fingers. 

"Now,  Erik,  you  surely  don't  want  to  bring 
me  to  despair?  If  we  go  back  now,  I  am 
really  at  my  wits'  end." 

There  was  a  pause,  and  he  sat  looking  down 
at  the  piece  of  grass  which  he  was  twisting 
mechanically  between  his  fingers.  At  last  he 
said,  with  a  sigh,  without  looking  at  her:  "If 


Treacherous  Ground  217 

I  hadn't  told  you  about  the  workmen's  hold- 
ings last  year,  that  day  on  the  steamer,  Inga, 
we  should  hardly  be  engaged  now. ' ' 

"What  nonsense  you're  talking.  Do  come, 
Erik,  when  I  beg  you  so  hard." 

At  last  he  looked  up  at  her,  and  tried  to 
smile.  "And  now,  if  they  begin  at  once  to 
move  down  again,  what  will  there  be  left  of 
me — in  your  eyes?" 

"Now,  Erik,  how  can  you  talk  like  that. 
It's  really  horrid  of  you."  She  came  up  and 
kissed  him,  but  took  hold  of  him  again,  say- 
ing: "Come  now,  dear!" 

Erik  felt  a  little  ashamed  of  having  let  fall 
his  last  remark,  and  in  order  to  give  it  the 
appearance  of  a  joke,  he  rose  and  went  with 
her,  although  his  feet  could  scarcely  carry  him. 

They  passed  the  sawmill,  where  the  river 
vainly  dashed  its  spray  against  the  wheels, 
now  that  the  work  was  stopped  for  the  day; 
and  soon  they  came  to  the  last  hill,  from  which 
the  first  cottage  in  Newland  could  be  seen. 

Inga,  too,  was  anxious,  for  she  knew  what 
this  matter  meant  for  her  fiance;  and  as  the 
decisive  moment  approached,  she  felt  like  one 
who  watches  the  effect  of  a  dangerous  medi- 
cine upon  some  one  he  loves.  It  might  make 


218  Treacherous  Ground 

the  patient  well,  but  there  was  also  another 
possibility. 

The  nearer  they  came  to  Newland,  the  more 
fateful  did  their  errand  seem.  The  people 
must  choose  to  stay  on  there — they  must,  they 
must?  "Oh,  if  only  they  decide  to  do  that!" 
she  thought. 

At  last  they  opened  the  last  gate,  and  en- 
tered Bertil's  little  property. 

"They've  gone  to  bed,  I  think,"  said  Erik, 
coming  to  a  standstill. 

"No,  don't  you  hear  the  sound  of  wood- 
chopping  ?  Come  along ! ' ' 


Chapter  III 


When  Inga  saw  the  big  man -who  stood  out- 
side the  cowshed  chopping  wood,  she  stood 
still  for  a  moment,  and  during  that  moment 
she  found  it  impossible  to  think  whether  the 
man  was  actually  in  danger  by  living  here. 
He  seemed  to  be  a  mystic  being,  who  was  to 
decide  their  fate  by  a  "yes"  or  a  "no."  Erik 
felt  something  of  the  same  sort,  and,  as  they 
approached  the  house,  their  hands  involun- 
tarily met. 

They  exchanged  greetings.  Bertil  wiped  his 
forehead,  and  stood,  a  little  embarrassed,  lean- 
ing upon  the  handle  of  his  axe.  This  visit, 
so  late  as  it  was,  was  a  little  strange. 

Inside  the  little  cowshed  could  be  heard  the 
sound  of  milking.  Bertil  was  the  first  of  the 
Newland  people  who  had  invested  in  a  cow. 

They  talked  a  little  on  various  subjects. 
Erik  could  see  that  the  crops  here  were  in 
better  condition  than  those  of  Bertil 's  neigh- 

219 


220  Treacherous  Ground 

bour,  Lars  Brovold.  That,  said  Bertil,  was 
because  Lars  had  been  so  late  with  his  spring 
work;  but  it  might  still  improve  there  too,  if 
they  had  rain. 

At  last  Ingeborg  came  out  of  the  cowshed, 
with  the  milking-stool  in  front  of  her,  and  her 
skirts  turned  up.  She  was  stout  but  pale, 
and  her  face  was  one  of  those  that  look  as  if 
they  had  long  since  given  up  laughing,  and 
had  stiffened  into  seriousness  that  savours  of 
psalm-singing  and  gloomy  weather. 

Inga  could  not  stand  still,  so  impatient  was 
she.  She  could  hear  her  heart  beating,  but 
at  last,  at  last  Erik  came  to  the  object  of  their 
visit.  He  stood  nervously  digging  his  stick 
into  the  sand  while  he  was  at  great  pains  to 
repeat  accurately  and  dispassionately  what 
Rein  asserted ;  but  in  conclusion  he  could  not 
resist  adding  what  the  Professor  had  said 
about  the  land  there  having  lain  through  many 
a  winter's  day  before  this. 

When  he  finished  there  was  a  pause.  Inge- 
borg had  been  standing  with  the  milking-stool 
in  front  of  her,  looking  away  to  one  side,  as 
if  she  were  at  a  prayer-meeting.  Bertil  first 
looked  at  her,  but  quickly  turned  his  eyes  in 
another  direction,  until  he  found  what  he 
sought,  far  off  on  the  other  side  of  the  fjord, 


Treacherous  Ground  221 

where  the  sun  flamed  in  the  windows  of  a 
house. 

Inga  looked  from  one  to  the  other.  She 
was  so  anxious  now,  that  she  thought:  "If 
they  say  that  they'll  leave  the  place,  I'll  take 
care  to  let  them  know  how  ungrateful  they 
are." 

But  it  was  not  like  Bertil  to  answer  at  once 
to  this.  He  withdrew  his  gaze  from  the  dis- 
tant spot  out  on  the  other  side  of  the  fjord, 
looked  along  the  land  that  he  had  tilled,  re- 
called the  first  day  he  was  free  and  began  to 
clear  the  ground,  and  looked  at  the  cottage 
that  he  had  carried  up  upon  his  back  in  order 
to  get  a  certain  view.  It  was  the  whole  of  his 
little  world,  beyond  which  his  thoughts  seldom 
ventured.  Give  it  up?  Then  all  his  hard  work 
had  been  in  vain. 

He  began  to  wander  about  a  little  to  think 
it  over,  but  came  to  a  standstill  opposite  his 
distant  view.  It  seemed  to  Inga  that  it  took 
an  incredible  time. 

"What  do  you  say?"  Erik  asked  at  last. 

Bertil  considered  again  for  some  time  before 
he  answered:  "Oh,  I  think  as  you  do,  sir,  that 
the  land  has  lain  here  for  many  a  winter's 
day  before  this." 

Ingeborg  sighed  and  added:  "And  if  the 


222  Treacherous  Ground 

Almighty  wants  to  punish  us,  it  doesn't  mat- 
ter where  we  move  to ;  but  if  He  wants  to  pre- 
serve us,  we're  just  as  safe  here  as  anywhere 
else." 

Erik  and  Inga  soon  went  on  farther,  but, 
when  they  had  got  behind  the  houses,  Inga 
had  to  sit  down  for  a  moment  to  dry  her  eyes. 
She  would  have  liked  to  breathe  out  freely,  to 
rejoice  and  throw  her  arms  around  Erik's 
neck ;  but  it  was  not  all  over  yet,  for  the  others 
might  answer  differently  from  Bertil.  She 
did  say,  however:  "There,  you  can  see,  Erik. 
And  people  who  have  worked  upon  the  land 
all  their  lives  should  be  allowed  to  have  an 
opinion  in  such  a  matter. ' ' 

Erik  was  pale,  but  smiled  now.  "Did  you 
hear  what  Ingeborg  said?  'If  God  wants  to 
preserve  us,'  she  said.  Happy  people,  who 
have  kept  the  faith  of  their  childhood  like 
that!" 

They  found  Petra  standing  on  her  doorstep, 
scrubbing  a  saucepan.  Lars  had  come  home 
from  the  timber-felling,  but  just  now  was 
in  at  their  neighbour's  Knut  Rabben.  Petra 
planted  her  wet  hands  on  her  hips,  and  listened 
with  curiosity  to  what  Erik  told  her  about 
Rein. 

She  glanced  at  the  land  that  she  had  worked 


Treacherous  Ground  223 

upon  alone  so  many  a  day  already,  at  this 
property  that  had  so  suddenly  lifted  her  up 
from  shame  and  dishonour.  To  leave  this  I 
How  would  Lars  treat  her  then,  if  he  had  not 
even  this  as  compensation? 

And  she  sighed  and  answered  with  the  re- 
mark that  Erik  had  so  sensibly  made — namely, 
that  the  land  had  lain  quiet  enough  here  for 
many  a  winter's  day  before  this. 

As  Erik  and  Inga  left  her,  they  heard  the 
energetic  scraping  of  the  saucepan  resumed. 
The  story  did  not  seem  to  have  alarmed  her 
very  much. 

They  went  on  over  rough  ground,  and 
climbed  over  the  fence  into  Knut  Rabben's 
land.  Inga  said:  "I  can  quite  understand, 
Erik,  why  you've  become  so  fond  of  these  peo- 
ple. Did  you  notice  what  pretty  eyes  Petra 
has?" 

A  pair  of  crows  flew  up  over  their  heads  and 
settled  in  the  wood  farther  off.  There  was  no 
one  to  be  seen  outside  Knut's  house,  but  they 
soon  heard  the  sound  of  several  voices  inside. 
They  went  into  a  little  spotless  room  with  fir 
twigs  strewn  over  the  floor.  Lars  was  sitting 
upon  the  bench  near  the  door,  smoking,  and 
Knut  and  Kristina  were  having  their  supper ; 
for  in  the  summer  country  people  end  the  day 


224  Treacherous  Ground 

late.  Kristina  started  up  and  tried  to  find 
something  to  put  straight  in  the  room,  a  coat 
to  move  away,  a  chair  to  bring  forward.  The 
slim  young  woman  with  the  flaxen  hair  and  the 
scar  on  her  cheek  was  soon  to  be  a  mother. 

Inga  and  Erik  sat  down,  and  he  began  at 
once  to  tell  them  his  errand.  He  wanted  them 
to  know,  he  said,  and  then  they  could  judge 
for  themselves. 

Kristina  looked  anxiously  at  her  husband, 
and  put  down  her  spoon.  Knut  pushed  his 
red  hair  up  from  his  forehead  and  looked  at 
Lars;  but  Lars  was  looking  at  Erik  almost 
with  hatred  in  his  eyes.  It  was  he  who  had 
induced  him  to  marry  Petra.  "Is  he  going 
to  do  me  out  of  the  little  I  got  in  exchange 
too?"  he  thought. 

"Oh  no!"  he  said  aloud,  looking  as  if  he 
were  keeping  back  something  that  another 
wanted  to  draw  from  him.  "I  say,  too,  that 
the  land  has  lain  still  here  for  many  a  winter's 
day  before  this." 

Erik  looked  at  him,  and  read  in  his  eyes  what 
he  had  feared.  These  people,  who  had  hitherto 
worshipped  him,  would  ask  why  the  deuce  he 
had  fooled  them  into  coming  up  here  if  the 
land  was  worthless. 

At  last  Knut  laid  down  his  spoon,  and  got 


Treacherous  Ground  225 

up  to  light  his  pipe.  Erik  and  Inga  looked  at 
him  a  little  anxiously,  for  he  looked  irresolute. 

"We-ell,"  he  said,  "landslips  do  sometimes 
happen. ' '  Again  Kristina  looked  anxiously  at 
him. 

But  now  Lars  was  afraid  that  these  two 
might  determine  to  move,  and  bad  though 
it  was  to  see  Kristina  as  another  man's 
wife,  if  they  perhaps  went  so  far  away  that  he 
could  never  see  her  any  more,  it  would  be  a 
thousand  times  worse. 

"It's  all  nonsense!"  he  said.  "That  Rein's 
always  going  about  telling  old- wives'  tales.  I 
worked  for  him  by  the  day  once,  but  we  were 
well-nigh  starved.  He's  a  nice  fellow!" 

This  seemed  to  be  a  good  argument  for 
Knut.  "Oh,  is  he  that  sort  of  man?"  he  said, 
getting  his  pipe  alight  at  last ;  and  in  a  little 
while  he  said  to  Erik  that  if  Bertil  and  Lars 
could  stay  there,  so  could  he. 

Once  more  the  two  went  on  their  way 
through  the  light  summer  evening.  But  Erik 
felt  that  the  worst  was  still  to  come,  for  he 
had  to  stand  before  Olina  and,  as  it  were,  say : 
"The  compensation  you  received  wasn't  worth 
a  penny." 

"I'm  not  equal  to  any  more  this  evening," 


226  Treacherous  Ground 

he  said  suddenly.  "LWe  can  come  up  here 
to-morrow." 

"No,  no.  You'll  sleep  better  when  it's  all 
over.  Come  now!" 

Old  Peter  Troen  was  sitting  upon  the  grass 
outside  the  cottage,  making  a  birch-broom, 
while  Toger  was  going  about  with  a  wheel- 
barrow, and  sprinkling  sand  outside  the  doors ; 
for  the  wedding  was  to  take  place  in  a  day  or 
two.  Presently  Olina  came  out  on  to  the 
kitchen  steps,  and  when  she  saw  Erik,  she 
made  an  unconscious  movement  of  her  hand 
to  smooth  her  hair. 

Inga  noticed  this  and  winced;  and  while 
the  two  men  listened  to  what  Erik  had  to  say, 
the  two  women  stood  looking  at  one  another. 
Inga  said  to  herself:  "So  Erik  has  belonged 
to  that  woman  before  he  belonged  to  me ;  and 
if  she  decides  to  leave  the  place,  I  know  he'll 
be  pondering  over  something  else  to  give  her." 

"Does  she  grudge  me  the  land  here?" 
thought  Olina.  "Does  she  want  him  to  take 
it  back?" 

The  old  man  stood  with  his  hands  behind 
him,  looking  down.  He  had  toiled  hard  many 
a  day  up  here  for  Olina 's  sake.  Toger  thrust 
his  hands  into  his  pockets  and  looked  at  Olina. 
Since  his  promotion  to  be  a  landowner  up 


Treacherous  Ground  227 

here,  people  had  not  laughed  at  his  deformity. 

Olina  looked  at  Erik,  and  involuntarily 
pulled  down  her  sleeves.  "She  sha'n't  suc- 
ceed in  having  me  left  alone  with  my  shame 
again,'7  was  her  thought ;  and  she  said  to  Toger 
that  she  thought  the  same  as  Erik — the  land 
up  there  had  lain  through  many  a  winter  be- 
fore this. 

Every  time  this  remark  was  echoed  by  one 
of  the  people  up  here,  it  sounded  to  Erik  like 
an  assurance  of  confidence  and  devotion;  and 
each  time  it  was  as  though  a  burden  had  been 
lifted  off  his  own  shoulders,  so  that  he  could 
go  on  free. 

As  they  were  climbing  another  fence,  Inga 
could  not  resist  standing  upon  the  topmost 
bar  and  jodeling  out  over  the  hills  until  the 
echoes  rang,  as  a  vent  to  her  joy. 

The  miller  was  a  fat  little  man,  and  was  now 
wandering  about  his  little  garden  with  a  pipe 
in  his  mouth.  When  he  saw  the  two  up  on 
the  road,  it  gave  him  a  little  shock,  and  he 
called  in  through  the  open  window  to  his  wife : 
4 'Give  the  pigs  a  little  food — quickly — to  keep 
them  quiet;  for  there  are  visitors  coming. " 

The  miller  had  rather  a  bad  conscience,  and 
always  tried  to  hide  how  many  pigs  he  kept; 
for  already  people  were  beginning  to  wonder 


228  Treacherous  Ground 

what  he  got  his  meal  for.  When,  therefore, 
Inga  and  Erik  came  up  and  he  heard  what 
they  had  to  say,  it  would  be  no  worse  for  him. 
He  agreed  with  Erik  that  the  land  had  lain 
quiet  there  for  many  a  winter's  day  before 
this. 

At  last  Inga  and  Erik  started  for  home. 
Down  in  the  valley  the  calm  river  lay  like  a 
sinuous  strip  of  blue  sky,  and  from  the  fir- 
clad  hill  that  rose,  dark  and  thick,  upon  the 
other  side  of  it,  came  the  sound  of  a  single 
cow-bell. 

They  walked  hand  in  hand,  but  out  on  the 
bluffs,  where  no  one  could  see  them,  Inga 
threw  her  arms  around  Erik's  neck.  "Are 
you  satisfied  now,  Erik?" 

"This  has  been  a  wonderful  walk,  Inga," 
he  replied,  stroking  her  cheek  again  and  again. 

' '  Are  you  satisfied  ? ' '  she  asked.  ' '  Will  you, 
after  this,  think  a  little  about  me  too?" 

He  looked  into  her  face  for  a  moment  with 
a  smile.  A  strange  medley  of  scenes  was 
passing  through  his  mind,  and  among  them 
that  evening  when  the  working-men's  associa- 
tion in  Kristiania  deserted  him,  and  Mogstad 
won.  But  now!  Things  had  turned  out  dif- 
ferently this  evening. 

"Erik,  what  are  you  thinking  about?" 


Treacherous  Ground  229 

He  pressed  his  lips  to  hers  in  a  long  kiss, 
and  the  consciousness  that  together  they  had 
succeeded  in  bringing  something  into  port, 
made  them  both  tremble  with  love  for  one 
another. 

"Inga,  Inga,  how  lovely  you  are!" 

"Let  me  go!  You  quite  take  away  my 
breath."  And  she  gently  freed  herself. 

On  the  next  hill,  where  the  valley  and  the 
silvery-grey  fjord  opened  out  before  them, 
they  sat  down,  each  on  a  little  mound,  and 
looked  down.  Far  out  in  the  west,  the  sky 
rose,  pure  and  golden,  from  behind  the  blue 
line  of  mountains.  It  was  midnight  now,  but 
there  was  no  twilight,  but  a  clear,  silent  day- 
light. 

"What  are  you  thinking  about,  Erik?" 

He  lay  back  on  the  grass,  put  his  hands 
behind  his  head,  and  looked  up  at  the  sky, 
which  up  there  was  of  such  a  deep,  intense 
blue.  Presently  he  said:  "It's  strange  how 
different  the  values  are  that  we  run  after. 
I  wonder  whether  these  simple  people  in  New- 
land  don't  understand  more  than  we  do,  who 
imagine  that  we've  read  and  thought." 

"Yes." 

But  Erik  was  thinking  about  something  else. 
It  was  that  remark  that  the  land  had  lain 


230 Treacherous  Ground 

quiet  for  many  a  winter's  day  before  this, 
which  the  old  artist  had  given  out  in  his  pa- 
triotic enthusiasm.  This  Erik  had  seized  upon 
and  constantly  made  use  of ;  it  was  so  obviously 
popular  and  said  so  much,  and  it  acted  every- 
where like  a  magic  bond  that  helped  him  to 
bind  the  people  to  their  homes  up  there. 

As  he  lay  there,  he  wished  that  this  remark 
had  not  had  the  effect  of  persuasion,  but  that 
it  had  been  the  people's  own  common-sense 
that  had  determined  them. 

"How  silent  you  are,  Erik!" 

"I  can't  forget  what  Bertil's  wife  said.  'If 
the  Almighty  wants  to  preserve  us,'  she  said, 
*  we  're  j  ust  as  safe  here. '  It 's  touching  to  hear 
such  childlike  faith.  And  perhaps  they  really 
all  have  it,  since  they've  all  decided  to  re- 


main. ' 


There  was  silence  again  for  a  little  while, 
during  which  they  heard  only  the  rush  of  the 
river  coming  up  from  the  valley.  Then  Erik 
turned  his  head  and  said,  with  a  smile:  "And 
you  believe  in  God,  don't  you,  Ingaf" 

She  sighed  a  little,  and  answered:  "Why, 
don't  you?" 

He  smiled,  and  looked  up  again  into  the 
endless  blue.  "What  do  we  know,  Inga?  I 
know  no  more  than  you.  But  if  after  this  my 


Treacherous  Ground  231 

mind  is  at  rest  and  I  am  allowed  to  live  many 
years  with  you,  I  would  gladly  give  up  all  de- 
lights after  death. " 

She  laid  her  hand  upon  his  hair  before  she 
said:  "Your  mind  at  rest?  Why  shouldn't 
it  be  now?  I'm  sure  I  hope  it  will  be,  Erik." 

"Yes,  oh  yes."  He  took  her  hand  and 
pressed  it  almost  convulsively,  as  he  said: 
"Thank  you,  Inga,  for  going  up  there  with  me 
this  evening." 


Chapter  IV 


When  a  man  recoils  from  an  action  that  he 
feels  to  be  required  of  him,  but  which  at  the 
same  time  will  demand  too  great  a  sacrifice, 
he  often  finds  comfort  in  philosophising.  This 
was  the  case  with  Rein.  As  he  flew  along  the 
roads  on  his  bicycle  to  inspect  roads  and 
bridges,  or  sat  in  his  office  among  papers  and 
drawings,  his  thoughts  would  sometimes  take 
a  little  rest  from  business  matters,  and  a  ques- 
tion would  come  up  in  his  mind  that  he  could 
now  never  get  rid  of:  "What  are  you  going  to 
do  about  Erik  Evje?  Why  do  you  keep  put- 
ting off  doing  something?" 

He  often  came  home  with  the  determina- 
tion that  it  should  be  done  to-morrow ;  but  to- 
morrow came,  and  it  was  not  done.  He  care- 
fully avoided  saying  anything  more  about  the 
matter  to  his  wife.  They  were  once  more  on 
good  terms  with  one  another,  and  her  thought 
for  him,  and  the  comfort  with  which  she  filled 

Mi 


Treacherous  Ground  233 

the  rooms,  had  the  effect  upon  him  of  a  prayer 
that  he  would  do  nothing  more  in  the  matter. 
He  happened  to  be  sitting  on  the  sofa,  lis- 
tening to  her  playing,  and,  while  the  music 
was  going  on  he  saw  himself  in  a  clearer  light, 
and  preached  himself  a  sermon.  "Perhaps 
it  is  true  that  I  am  a  bird  of  ill  omen.  What 
good  do  we  do  the  world,  we  who  take  to  heart 
the  evil  that  happens  here  or  there  ?  We  are 
like  a  telephone  station,  always  being  rung 
up  from  one  place  or  another.  Here  a  great 
wrong  has  been  done,  there  a  dangerous  lie 
has  been  taken  for  truth  by  everybody,  up 
there  a  rogue  has  been  elevated  into  a  saint, 
and  down  there  a  good  man  misunderstood 
and  wronged.  It  is  always  ringing,  and 
always  feels  like  a  stab  in  one's  own  heart. 
'Oh!'  we  cry,  and  spring  up  and  rush  off  to 
put  things  straight;  and  we're  so  taken  up 
with  feeling  and  putting  right,  that  we  haven't 
a  moment  left  for  our  own  happiness.  There 
is,  for  instance,  something  called  beauty. 
There  are  women.  There  is  poetry  and  music. 
Flowers  blossom  in  the  gardens  every  spring 
and  summer.  How  much  attention  have  you 
paid  to  all  this  ?  Now  you  have  a  home,  with 
a  beautiful  woman  in  it,  and  you  might  be 
happy;  but  you  imperil  it  all  for  a  thing  so 


234  Treacherous  Ground 

unimportant  as  that  a  few  workmen  will  be 
carried  free  of  charge  into  the  lower  regions 
some  fine  day.  They  must  all  die  some  day, 
and,  moreover,  you've  warned  them.  What 
more  can  you  do?  Why  in  the  world  then 
do  you  go  and  wail  any  more  over  it  ? 

He  determined  that  there  should  also  be  an 
end  to  those  angry  newspaper  articles.  He 
would  no  longer  take  to  heart  things  that  did 
not  directly  concern  himself.  Every  time,  up 
to  the  present,  that  he  had  interfered  in  things 
that  did  not  concern  him,  he  had  only  suc- 
ceeded in  bringing  on  himself  vexations  and  a 
great  many  enemies.  It  was  about  time  that 
he  came  to  reason. 

All  this  he  said  to  himself  over  and  over 
again,  and  yet  he  could  not  quite  get  rid  of  the 
thought  of  those  five  families,  over  whose 
heads  there  daily  hung  an  inevitable  catas- 
trophe. 

The  end  of  it  was  that  one  day  he  wrote  a 
letter  to  Erik  Evje.  His  wife  need  know 
nothing  about  it.  But  as  if  she  had  guessed 
what  he  was  engaged  in,  she  came  suddenly 
into  the  room.  Rein  felt  like  a  schoolboy  that 
is  caught  cheating,  and  quickly  laid  a  piece 
of  blotting-paper  over  the  letter. 

"What  are  you  doing,  dear?"  she  asked, 


Treacherous  Ground  235 

coming  up  and  seating  herself  upon  his 
knee. 

"Oh,  I'm  writing,  as  you  see.  Leave  me 
alone  for  a  little,  and  then  perhaps  we'll  go 
for  a  row  when  I've  finished. 

She  drew  the  blotting-paper  aside  with  a 
smile,  and  at  once  saw  Erik  Evje's  name. 
At  this  she  rose  quickly,  and  going  to  the 
window,  stood  looking  out. 

"Really?"  she  said  at  last.  "Do  you  think 
it's  a  suitable  time  to  do  this  now,  just  as  Erik 
and  Inga  have  got  married?" 

Rein  sat  pulling  at  his  beard  but  did  not 
answer. 

"For  that  matter,"  she  added,  "Erik  Evje 
has  explained  to  the  Newland  people  what  you 
told  him;  but  they  chose  to  remain  there  all 
the  same." 

"What?"  exclaimed  Rein,  getting  up. 
"They  chose  to  go  on  living  there,  just  the 
same?" 

"Yes,"  said  his  wife,  almost  triumphantly. 

"Then  he  must  have  explained  things  in  a 
peculiar  way." 

"YouVe  no  right  to  say  that,  Ingvald.  Inga 
told  me  herself,  and  she  went  up  there  with 
him." 

Rein  looked  for  a  little  while  at  the  letter 


236  Treacherous  Ground 

he  had  begun,  and  at  last  said,  "Very  well," 
and  taking  up  the  paper,  tore  it  in  pieces. 

Fru  Rein  moved  about  the  room  putting 
things  away,  and  Rein  stood  looking  out  of  the 
window  at  the  fjord  running  blue  under  the 
north  wind. 

They  had  chosen  to  go  on  living  there !  It 
could  not  be  from  indifference  to  life.  Oh  no, 
not  at  all.  But  Erik  must  have  wrapped  up 
his  warning  in  phrases  that  put  the  matter  in 
a  false  light ;  for  when  people  like  these  New- 
land  people  had  to  choose  in  such  a  matter  of 
life  and  death,  they  could  not  be  altogether 
without  common-sense. 

"Didn't  you  say  we  could  go  for  a  row?" 
asked  Fru  Rein  from  the  other  window. 

Rein  sighed.  "Yes,  certainly,"  he  replied, 
after  a  slight  pause.  ' '  By  all  means  let  us  go. ' ' 

Even  after  that  day,  however,  Rein  felt  that 
he  was  not  quite  finished  with  this  matter. 
They  had  chosen  themselves,  these  people,  but 
how  preposterously.  He  might  go  up  and 
explain  things  to  them,  but  of  course  it  would 
be  put  down  as  policy,  and  it  would  benefit  no 
one,  and  only  bring  fresh  annoyance  to  him- 
self. There  was  nothing  to  be  done.  Rein 
again  had  the  feeling  of  having  a  newspaper 
article  returned,  and  again  he  had  to  go  and 


Treacherous  Ground  237 

swallow  his  righteous  indignation  that  no  one 
in  the  world  took  the  slightest  notice  of. 

"That's  how  things  go,"  he  thought,  be- 
ginning to  philosophise.  "If  I  were  wise,  I'd 
throw  the  truth  to  the  winds,  and  go  in  for 
flowers  and  wine  and  beauty  and  a  happy  be- 
lief in  the  good  in  man,  and  then  perhaps 
they'd  call  me  an  idealist  too." 

The  good?  Erik  Evje's  arguments  during 
their  last  encounter  began  to  come  into  Rein's 
mind,  and  they  gave  food  for  much  reflection. 
Newland  was  a  crucifix  to  Evje,  and  an  ideal, 
and  a  matter  of  conscience.  Rein  would  some- 
times stand  still  in  the  middle  of  the  high- 
road to  ponder  on  the  connection  between 
ideals  and  conscience. 

Autumn  set  in  with  rain  and  mist,  and  a 
heavy  white  steam  hung  over  the  fjord.  Every 
morning  when  Rein  awoke,  he  expected  to 
hear  of  a  disaster  at  Newland;  but  towards 
the  end  of  September  the  weather  became 
bright  again,  and  the  trees  stood  in  the  sun- 
shine like  blood-red  roses  upon  the  hillsides. 

On  one  of  these  days  Rein  was  wandering 
through  the  woods  with  his  gun  over  his  shoul- 
der. He  was  tired  after  having  been  out  shoot- 
ing since  the  early  morning,  and  he  stopped 
again  and  again  to  whistle  to  his  dog,  which 


238  Treacherous  Ground 

t . 

he  could  still  hear  giving  tongue  away  on  the 
hill.  He  saw  that  the  shortest  way  down  to  the 
village  would  be  to  follow  the  river  down  past 
Newland,  and  he  decided  to  do  this.  The  river 
twisted  in  and  out  through  the  rocks,  and,  as 
Rein  approached  Newland,  he  suddenly 
stopped  and  gazed  across  at  the  other  side. 
The  river  here  was  fairly  rapid,  but  encoun- 
tered the  hillside,  and  had  to  turn  to  go  around 
it.  But  there  in  the  turn  it  had  torn  down 
a  whole  hill  in  the  last  few  days;  and,  what 
was  worse,  it  seemed  to  disappear  under  the 
hill,  to  return  again  in  silent  eddies.  It  had 
eaten  its  way  under  the  earth  there,  and  would 
be  sure  to  eat  its  way  farther  in  as  the  autumn 
advanced.  Newland  lay  just  below,  and  a 
landslip  might  take  place -at  any  time. 

"Now  it's  serious,"  thought  Rein.  "Now 
I  shall  have  to  go  up  and  speak  to  those  peo- 
ple." 

But  he  did  not.  He  had  made  up  his  mind 
that  he  would  do  nothing  behind  Evje's  back, 
so  it  would  be  better  to  talk  to  Evje  himself 
once  more. 

When  he  came  farther  down,  he  found  him- 
self suddenly  just  opposite  Newland.  There 
on  the  slope  on  the  other  side  of  the  river  lay 
the  five  small  farms,  sending  up  smoke  into 


Treacherous  Ground  239 

the  still  autumn  air.  A  strange  feeling  seized 
him.  Could  those  smiling  homes  and  their 
owners  be  doomed? 

He  again  whistled  to  his  dog,  and  threw 
himself  down  on  the  ground  to  wait  for  him. 
The  sun  had  made  the  heather  warm,  the  sky 
was  blue,  and  high  up  above  the  ridge  hung  a 
solitary  hawk  on  the  watch. 

Rein  put  his  hands  behind  his  head,  and 
looked  across  to  Newland,  where  the  lands  to- 
gether formed  a  long  strip  cut  out  of  the  for- 
est. On  each  man's  land  he  saw  people  out  at 
work.  On  one  they  were  digging  up  new  land, 
on  another  cutting  the  yellow  corn,  and  on  a 
third  a  woman  was  trying  to  tether  a  cow  on 
the  slope.  At  one  place  he  saw  a  man  coming 
down  from  the  wood  with  a  great  bundle  of 
wood  upon  his  shoulder,  which  he  threw  down 
outside  the  cowshed.  As  Rein  lay  there  me- 
chanically gazing  across,  he  began  to  ponder 
again. 

" Those  people,"  he  thought,  " believe  it's 
for  themselves  they're  toiling,  but  in  reality 
it's  so  that  Erik  Evje  shall  have  an  ideal. 
That's  what  it  is.  He's  planted  them  there 
just  as  we  others  plant  pines  as  a  shelter  from 
the  north  wind.  His  father  used  the  people 
inconsiderably  for  the  benefit  of  his  purse, 


240  Treacherous  Ground 

and  Erik  Evje  for  his  conscience.  The  one 
man's  selfishness  is  just  as  brutal  as  the 
other's." 

Crucifix !    Ideals !    Conscience ! 

He  recollected  a  student  of  divinity  who 
had  become  a  fanatical  "dialect"  agitator,  be- 
cause he  had  at  one  time  scoffed  at  the  dialect 
spoken  by  his  poor  mother.  She  was  now 
dead,  but  he  was  going  to  atone,  and  for  this 
purpose  all  Norwegians  must  lend  themselves. 

The  crucifix  and  conscience! 

He  remembered  a  friend  who  lost  his  wife 
in  a  fire,  and  in  his  despair  he  became  a  mis- 
sioner,  and  finally  travelled  along  the  high- 
roads followed  by  a  singing,  weeping  crowd. 
It  was  a  comfort  to  him  to  communicate  his 
funereal  state  of  mind  to  old  and  young ;  and 
when  he  succeeded  in  converting  the  happi- 
ness of  a  newly-married  pair  to  the  same  de- 
spair that  he  felt,  he  raised  his  eyes  to  heaven 
and  felt  that  he  had  entered  into  an  alliance 
with  God. 

r.     How  many  human  souls  have  prophets  and 
\  popular  leaders  crucified  for  similar  reasons  ? 
1      ' l  That  man, ' '  thought  Rein,  raising  his  eyes, 
"is  modest  after  all.    He  is  content  with  hang- 
ing five  families  upon  the  cross.   With  that  his 
conscience  is  satisfied." ' 


Treacherous  Ground  241 

The  river  roared  and  the  sun  shone  hot  upon 
him,  and  so  occupied  was  he  with  his  thoughts, 
that  he  did  not  notice  his  dog  until  it  pushed 
its  nose  into  his  face. 

At  last  he  started  off  again  with  his  gun 
over  his  shoulder  and  his  heavy  game-bag 
upon  his  back.  As  he  went,  he  threw  a  last 
glance  at  Newland,  saying  to  himself:  "No, 
they  Ve  themselves  chosen  to  go  on  living  there, 
and  if  I  went  and  told  them  the  truth,  they'd 
only  think  me  a  reactionist  and  a  hater  of  the 
poor.  It's  no  affair  of  mine.  I've  made  up 
my  mind  to  be  an  idealist  for  the  future  and 
not  a  bird  of  ill  omen."  And  he  tramped  on 
with  a  peculiar  smile  upon  his  face. 


Chapter  V 


Petra  and  Lars  were  carrying  the  sheaves  of 
corn  in  from  the  field  lower  down  the  hill. 
The  east  wind  was  swaying  the  branches  of 
the  trees  on  the  slope,  and  now  and  then 
whirled  yellow  leaves  and  straw  above  their 
heads.  Petra  had  a  large  handkerchief  over 
the  back  of  her  neck,  to  keep  the  ears  of  corn 
from  pricking  her,  and  Lars,  for  the  same 
reason,  wore  a  sou'wester. 

There  were  only  four  corn-stakes  left,  when 
Lars,  on  his  way  down,  seated  himself  on  a 
stone  and  took  out  his  pipe.  Petra  stopped 
and  looked  at  him.  "Sha'n't  we  get  in  those 
stakes  now  before  it  gets  dark  I"  she  asked. 

" There's  no  more  than  you  can  manage," 
he  answered,  beginning  to  scrape  out  his  pipe. 

Petra  objected,  saying  that  she  had  a  good 
deal  still  to  do  that  evening,  the  children  to 
put  to  bed,  the  floor  to  wash,  and  the  supper 
to  prepare ;  but  as  Lars  did  not  appear  to  hear 
her,  she  sighed  and  went  down  to  the  field 

242 


Treacherous  Ground  243 

alone.  There  she  took  hold  of  another  stake, 
dragged  it  backwards  and  forwards  to  loosen 
it,  and  at  last  got  it  out  of  the  ground  and 
balanced  upon  her  shoulder.  The  heavy 
weight  bent  her  double  as  she  began  to  work 
her  way  up  the  hill,  the  broad  surface  of  the 
corn-stake  hiding  her  head  and  back  and  leav- 
ing only  her  legs  visible  toiling  up  towards 
the  barn. 

"Yes,  now  she  may  go  at  it,"  thought  Lars 
as  he  lighted  his  pipe  and  remained  seated. 
For  his  part,  he  had  done  enough  for  that  day. 

But  as  Petra  threw  down  the  corn  in  the 
barn,  she  heard  the  children  screaming  piti- 
fully in  the  cottage.  She  went  to  the  window 
and  looked  in,  trying  not  to  be  seen;  for,  if 
they  caught  sight  of  her,  the  disturbance  would 
be  worse  than  ever. 

There  in  the  darkening  room  she  saw  the 
eldest  boy,  whom  she  had  before  her  marriage, 
creeping  about  on  the  table,  picking  up  crumbs 
and  putting  them  in  his  mouth.  In  the  cradle 
lay  the  youngest,  screaming  because  the  little 
dwarf,  who  should  have  been  rocking  the 
cradle,  was  no  longer  paying  any  attention  to 
it,  but  sat  making  hooks  out  of  brass  wire.  The 
dwarf  was  a  deformed  lad  that  Petra  had 
taken  at  the  cost  of  the  parish,  so  that  she 


244  Treacherous  Ground 

could  earn  a  few  coppers.  He  was  twenty,  but 
so  twisted  with  rheumatism  that  he  was  no 
bigger  than  a  boy  of  eight;  but  he  was  ener- 
getic and  neat-handed,  and  worked  at  little 
things  to  earn  a  few  pence  to  buy  books. 

Petra  knocked  carefully  on  the  window- 
pane,  so  that  he,  and  not  the  children,  should 
hear  her,  and  then  hurried  down  to  the  field 
again. 

Lars,  still  sitting  on  the  stone,  watched 
her.  He  found  the  work  in  his  fields  at  home 
harder  and  harder,  and  his  neighbours  were 
already  far  ahead  of  him.  Moreover,  he  be- 
gan to  feel  that  he  had  been  persuaded  to  take 
the  land  in  exchange  for  Kristina ;  and  when 
he  thought  over  it,  the  work  would  drop  from 
his  hands,  and  he  would  sit  and  brood  as  he 
was  now  doing. 

If  he  could  only  get  out  of  his  head  those 
fancies  about  some  day  being  a  bachelor  again 
and  going  to  church  in  uniform;  for  they 
always  stopped  short  at  the  fact  that  Kristina 
at  any  rate  was  no  longer  at  church  as  an  un- 
married girl,  no  matter  how  fine  his  uniform 
was.  It  was  too  late.  What  was  done  could 
not  be  undone. 

When  all  this  came  over  him,  it  was  a  com- 
fort to  him  to  go  home  to  his  parents  in  the 


Treacherous  Ground  245 

little  fisherman's  cottage,  and  stay  the  night 
there.  In  the  little  attic  he  seemed  to  find  his 
youth  again,  and  could  think  about  the  future 
as  he  used  to  do. 

While  he  sat  there,  Petra  came  up  the  hill 
with  a  corn-stake,  but  this  time  he  did  not  see 
her,  for  he  was  gazing  vacantly  across  at  the 
hills  beyond  the  river,  where  the  twilight  was 
rising,  together  with  the  ceaseless  roar  of  the 
water. 

When  at  last  he  rose,  he  saw  that  there  were 
only  two  corn-stakes  left  standing,  and  one  of 
those  he  might  just  as  well  have  taken.  But 
he  did  not  do  it.  When  Petra  once  more  went 
down,  he  hurried  up  to  the  cottage,  where  he 
found  a  little  water  to  wash  his  hands  and  face, 
and  then  crossed  the  field,  climbed  the  fence, 
and  made  his  way  through  the  thicket  of  alder 
that  still  separated  his  land  from  Knut's.  To- 
day Kristina  would  be  at  home  alone.  And  as 
he  approached  the  buildings,  he  saw  that  this 
was  the  case,  and  that  she  was  bringing  in  the 
corn  alone. 

She  had  tied  a  sheet  about  her  head  to  pro- 
tect it  from  the  ears,  and  when  she  came  out 
of  the  barn  and  saw  him,  she  stood  for  a  mo- 
ment pushing  locks  of  hair  in  under  it,  and 
ashamed  of  her  appearance. 


246  Treacherous  Ground 

"Are  you  working  here  quite  alone?"  said 
Lars,  as  with  Ms  hands  in  his  pockets  he  saun- 
tered towards  her. 

"Yes,  Knut's  at  the  sawmill  to-day, "  she 
answered,  picking  up  an  ear  of  corn  from  the 
barn  bridge,  and  rubbing  it  between  her  red 
hands. 

Lars  felt  his  heart  leap.  Now  they  could 
be  alone  together  for  a  little.  If  only  he  did 
not  say  something  stupid  again.  When  he  was 
away  from  her,  it  was  so  easy  to  think  how 
he  should  express  himself;  but  no  sooner  did 
they  come  together  than  it  all  came  to  a  stand- 
still. 

"You've  got  in  your  corn,  I  suppose?"  she 
asked. 

"Oh  yes,"  answered  Lars.  "I  just  carried 
in  the  last  stakes  now,  so  perhaps  I  could  take 
a  hand  with  yours.  It's  a  shame  that  a  poor 
woman  should  go  out  and  wear  herself  out  with 
such  work." 

"Oh,  you  mustn't  give  up  your  time  to  me," 
said  Kristina,  glancing  up  at  him  in  her  old 
way.  "But  it's  a  good  thing,  all  the  same, 
that  I  can  get  away  in  to  my  little  screamer." 
And  she  went  up  to  the  window  and  peeped 
into  the  room,  where  a  little  creature  was  lying 
asleep. 


Treacherous  Ground  247 

All  was  quiet  here,  however,  and  she  went 
down  with  Lars  towards  the  cornfield.  Lars 
pulled  up  a  stake  for  her,  and  took  one  him- 
self and  started  off  with  it.  The  corn  felt 
lighter  here  than  at  home.  And  when  he  came 
out  of  the  barn  and  met  Kristina  below  the 
bridge,  a  feeling  of  tenderness  seized  him  at 
sight  of  the  pretty  girl  weighed  down  by  her 
heavy  burden.  "Give  it  to  me,"  he  said,  lift- 
ing it  from  her  shoulders  on  to  his  own.  "The 
bridge  is  too  steep  at  any  rate  for  a  little  thing 
like  you." 

When  he  came  back  again,  she  was  standing 
waiting  for  him,  so  that  they  could  go  down  to 
the  field  together. 

It  was  nice  to  be  beside  her,  but  he  must 
give  it  up  now,  so  that  she  could  rest,  poor 
thing.  "There  are  no  more  stakes  there  than 
I  can  bring  in  alone,"  he  said. 

"Oh,  that  would  be  too  bad!"  she  protested; 
but  he  would  not  give  in.  She  must  be  careful 
and  not  do  too  much. 

This  care  for  her  was  the  only  way  in  which 
he  could  show  her  his  affection  now ;  for  since 
they  had  married,  no  word  ever  passed  between 
them  of  what  had  been. 

It  began  to  grow  dark,  and  the  valley  below 
became  black.  Kristina  had  gone  in  and  put 


248  Treacherous  Ground 

the  kettle  on;  but,  even  after  it  had  grown 
pitch  dark,  she  could  see  from  the  window  the 
light  corn-stakes  moving  up  and  vanishing 
into  the  barn. 

When  Lars  had  at  last  finished,  he  thought 
of  slipping  away  quietly;  but  Kristina  had 
been  on  the  watch  for  him,  and  would  not  let 
him  go  before  he  had  had  a  cup  of  coffee. 

He  never  cared  very  much  about  going  in 
there,  for  there  was  so  much  in  the  cottage 
that  distinctly  showed  that  she  belonged  to 
another  man;  but  now  she  had  really  made 
things  smart  for  him,  for  a  white  cloth  was 
spread  upon  the  table,  and  the  silver  sugar- 
basin  and  cream- jug  were  set  out,  as  if  he  had 
been  a  distinguished  stranger. 

Lars  sat  down  carefully  at  the  table,  so  as 
not  to  upset  anything,  and  folded  his  hands 
for  a  moment  under  the  table-cloth.  Then  he 
had  to  drink  two  cups  of  coffee,  and  take  some 
ginger-bread  with  it,  while  she  stood  at  the 
stove  and  drank  a  cup.  But  every  time  she 
came  to  him  with  more  coffee,  a  thrill  passed 
through  him  because  her  skirts  touched  his 
knee. 

"I  hope  you  aren't  afraid  about  that  non- 
sense that  Engineer  Rein  has  been  talking 
about, "  he  said,  so  as  to  appear  a  little  fatherly 


Treacherous  Ground  249 

towards  her.  And  then  he  began  to  assure 
her  that  there  was  nothing  in  it.  Toger,  the 
shoemaker,  was  said  to  be  afraid  every  day 
now — ha  ha! — because  the  river  had  torn 
away  a  bank  of  clay  up  here  in  the  bend ;  but 
that  was  nonsense.  Kristina  thought  so  too; 
it  was  as  Evje  had  said — the  land  had  lain 
there  quietly  for  many  a  winter 's  day.  And 
for  Lars  there  seemed  to  open  up  a  long,  safe 
future,  when  they  could  always  live  here  and 
be  so  near  one  another. 

"I  wonder  whether  Knut  won't  soon  be  on 
his  way  home,"  said  Kristina  suddenly,  going 
to  the  window. 

"There!  She  misses  him  now  too,"  said 
Lars  to  himself,  his  courage  sinking.  He 
made  haste  to  leave  the  table  and  thank  her 
for  the  entertainment.  She  would  not  care 
much  about  him  after  this,  no  matter  how 
much  he  came  and  helped  her. 

When  he  left  the  cottage,  he  made  a  detour 
so  as  not  to  meet  Knut;  but  when  he  got  to 
the  fence,  he  sat  down  and  began  to  scrape  out 
his  pipe.  A  little  later  he  heard  footsteps, 
and  then  some  one  climbed  over  the  fence  up 
by  the  path.  It  was  Knut,  who  passed  close 
by  him,  with  an  axe  over  his  shoulder. 

It  seemed  strange  to  see  this  man  sauntering 


250  Treacherous  Ground 

homewards  so  indifferently,  when  a  wife  like 
Kristina  sat  and  waited  for  him. 

Lars  smoked  his  pipe  out,  and  then  another. 
At  last  he  rose,  but  still  could  not  go  home. 
He  wandered  about  in  the  dark  for  some  time, 
looking  up  at  the  lighted  window  in  Knut  and 
Kristina 7s  cottage;  and  at  last  he  approached 
carefully,  with  noiseless  step,  and  going  up  to 
the  window,  looked  in. 

The  two  were  sitting  one  at  each  side  of  the 
table,  eating  their  supper  of  porridge.  They 
were  talking  and  laughing,  for  they  were  still 
like  a  newly-married  couple  towards  each 
other.  She  became  so  merry  that  she  splashed 
a  spoonful  of  milk  into  his  face,  so  that  he  had 
to  dry  his  red  beard ;  and  he  revenged  himself 
by  kicking  her  chair  away  from  under  her, 
just  as  she  was  carrying  a  spoonful  to  her 
mouth.  When  she  fell  on  the  floor,  he  rushed 
to  her  and  lifted  her  up,  carrying  her  about 
the  room  for  a  little  before  they  took  their 
seats  again. 

Lars  involuntarily  clenched  his  fists,  but  re- 
mained standing  in  the  same  position,  breath- 
ing heavily.  He  could  not  hear  what  they 
said,  but  their  faces  showed  how  taken  up  they 
were  with  one  another,  and  that  she  had  not 
a  thought  for  him,  who  had  carried  in  the  corn 


Treacherous  Ground  251 

for  her.  When  they  left  the  table,  Knut  first 
helped  her  to  clear  away  the  dishes ;  and  then, 
while  she  wiped  the  table,  he  stood  stretching 
himself  and  yawning.  Then  he  put  his  arm 
round  his  wife  and  drew  her  on  to  his  knee. 
To  see  this  man's  arm  about  her  slender  waist, 
this  woman  upon  another  man's  knee,  made 
the  one  outside  the  window  long  to  rush  in  and 
knock  Knut  down;  but  he  stayed  where  he 
was,  though  he  had  to  close  his  eyes  for  a  little. 

When  he  looked  in  again,  Knut  was  un- 
dressing, his  pipe  in  his  mouth.  He  had  to  get 
up  early  in  the  morning,  and  went  to  bed 
early.  Lars  saw  him  get  into  bed,  still  with 
his  pipe  in- his  mouth,  and  presently  heard  him 
call:  " What's  become  of  you,  old  lady?"  and 
her  answer,  "I'm  coming!"  from  the  kitchen, 
where  she  was  busy  with  something. 

Lars  stood  and  watched  Kristina  undress 
too,  while  her  husband  lay  waiting.  She 
scratched  her  bare,  round  arms,  took  off  her 
stays  and  petticoat,  and  stood  for  a  moment 
in  her  chemise  and  red  underskirt  before  she 
seated  herself  upon  the  edge  of  the  bed  and 
drew  off  her  stockings.  Then  Lars  drew  back 
a  few  steps,  and  then  a  few  more,  as  if  retreat- 
ing bashfully;  but  at  last  he  stood  still  and 


252  Treacherous  Ground 

remained  gazing  at  the  lighted  window,  until 
the  light  was  extinguished. 

When  he  finally  saw  the  light  from  his  own 
cottage  window,  he  had  not  the  courage  to  go 
in,  after  what  had  passed.  He  heard  the 
sound  of  scrubbing,  so  Petra  was  still  washing 
floors. 

But  Lars  decided  to  go  home  and  sleep  at 
his  mother's  again;  and,  without  letting  his 
wife  know  what  had  become  of  him,  he  set 
off,  past  Bertil's  house,  and  down  over  the 
bluffs.  His  footsteps  rang  out  in  the  stillness 
of  the  night,  and  presently  he  began  humming 
something,  as  though  he  felt  the  need  of  sing- 
ing a  melancholy  song.  Above  the  mountains 
in  the  west  rose  the  starry  sky,  with  here  and 
there  a  dark  cloud;  and  from  the  fjord  he 
could  already  hear  the  sound  of  the  waves 
splashing  and  singing  upon  the  beach. 


Chapter  VI 


After  the  wedding,  Erik  Evje  had  moved  the 
offices  into  a  small,  separate  building  near  the 
factories ;  and  when  it  was  time  for  him  to  go 
home  to  dinner,  he  would  wonder  whether 
Inga  would  come  and  meet  him  that  day,  and 
if  so,  whether  it  would  be  by  the  head  for- 
ester's house,  or  by  the  smithy,  or  as  far  off  as 
the  storehouse.  Then  when  he  caught  sight  of 
her  he  would  pretend  he  saw  nothing  until 
the  last  moment,  when  he  would  start  and  be 
quite  astonished.  " Nonsense!"  she  would  ex- 
claim. "You  saw  me  well  enough,  you  de- 
ceiver!" And  she  would  put  her  arm  through 
his,  and  talk  all  the  way  home  of  all  the  re- 
markable things  that  had  happened  during 
the  few  hours  they  had  been  separated. 

A  steady  calm  began  to  take  possession  of 
Erik.  He  had  at  last  come  to  a  full  under- 
standing of  his  business,  and  knew  what  he 
wanted  and  what  he  did  not  want  in  those  mat- 

253 


254  Treacherous  Ground 

ters.  He  had  become  accustomed  to  the 
thought  of  living  in  this  out-of-the-way  corner 
for  the  rest  of  his  life,  and  yet  filling  a  place, 
and  feeling  satisfied.  At  home  there  were  two 
women,  who  only  thought  about  making  him 
comfortable ;  and  in  the  business  he  had  a  safe 
feeling  that  everything  was  going  steadily  and 
surely  forward.  When  he  was  alone  on  his 
forest  journeys  and  could  give  himself  up  to 
reflection,  his  life  seemed  to  him  to  be  a  con- 
tinual journeying  up  a  toilsome  road.  "Well," 
he  thought,  stopping  as  if  to  look  back;  "that 
and  that  had  to  be  gone  through,  and  now  I'm 
here." 

It  sometimes  happens,  however,  that  a  man  \ 
who  jokes  and  laughs  has  a  little  sore  place  i 
upon  his  foot,  which  hurts  at  every  step,  al-  / 
though  he  thinks  about  other  things  and  walks  ( 
as  if  nothing  were  the  matter.    Erik  Evje  also 
lad  a  little  sore  place.    It  was  a  secret  fear 
that,  in  spite  of  everything,  there  was  some- 
thing wrong  up  at  Newland.    It  was  a  fear 
that  he  would  not  even  confess  to  himself; 
but  when  the  conversation  turned  upon  the 
Newland  people,  his  voice  would  acquire  a 
strange  warmth,  as  if  he  were  washing  him- 
self clean  from  an  accusation,  or  were  defend- 
ing a  condemned  man  whom  he  hoped  to  save. 


Treacherous  Ground  255 

When  it  had  rained  for  a  day,  and  people 
said  it  looked  as  if  it  would  go  on,  he  would 
sometimes  become  quite  irritable. 

* '  Rubbish ! "  he  would  say.  '  *  How  can  any- 
one know  anything  about  to-morrow's 
weather  I"  He  feared  this  autumn  rain,  when 
the  river  grew  and  became  dangerous.  It  was 
almost  as  if  the  laws  of  nature  were  already 
coming  forward  and  ranging  themselves  upon 
Rein's  side.  Then,  when  the  sun  shone  again, 
he  would  be  in  the  brightest  of  spirits ;  but  the 
rain  would  come  on  again,  and  during  the 
night  he  would  lie  awake,  listening  to  the  grow- 
ing noise  of  the  waterfall,  which  bee;  ne  more 
and  more  ominous  to  him. 

They  were  sitting  one  evening  after  supper 
— the  young  couple — watching  the  light  from 
the  stove,  while  the  storm  could  be  heard  beat- 
ing against  the  windows  outside  in  the  autumn 
evening. 

Inga  had  been  telling  him  with  tears  about 
an  encounter  with  her  mother-in-law.  She 
had  long  suffered  in  silence,  but  to-day  it  had 
been  a  little  too  bad  of  Fru  Evje  to  come  and 
say  within  hearing  of  the  servants  that  the 
Evje  kitchen  had  never  been  so  dirty  as  it 
was  now. 

Inga  raised  her  dark  head  and  looked  at  him 


256  Treacherous  Ground 

anxiously.  If  he  sprang  up  and  wanted  to 
go  at  once  and  reprove  his  mother,  she  would 
ask  him  not  to.  To  have  him  on  her  side  was 
all  that  mattered. 

But  Erik  was  thinking  that  that  night,  on 
land  or  at  sea,  far  more  momentous  things 
might  happen,  so  it  was  easy  for  him  to  treat 
this  matter  lightly. 

"I'm  sure,  dear/'  he  said  stroking  her  hair, 
"that  mother  didn't  mean  anything  by  it." 

"No,  of  course  not!  She's  always  finding 
fault  with  me,  but  she  doesn't  mean  anything 
by  it!  And  you  can't  even  imagine  that  it 
hurts  me?" 

"Yes,  I  do,  but  we  must  show  a  little  for- 
bearance with  old  people.  We  young  people 
have  other  interests  than  a  stain  on  the 
brass ' 

"Oh,  as  to  interests,"  she  interrupted.  "We 
women  have  only  trivalities  to  attend  to  all 
day  long." 

He  bent  forward  to  knock  the  ash  out  of  his 
pipe,  and  his  hand  turned  blood  red  in  the 
light  from  the  draught-hole  in  the  stove-door. 

"Now  I'll  tell  you  something,  Inga,"  said 
he,  stretching  his  slim  figure  in  the  arm-chair. 
"You  ought  to  have  something  to  occupy  you 
outside  yourself  and  your  own  family.  Have 


Treacherous  Ground  257 

you  thought  how  much  better  off  we  are  than, 
for  instance,  the  Newland  people?  They've 
got  their  house  and  a  little  land,  but  what 
about  their  intellectual  horizon?  What  do 
we  do,  who  in  this  respect,  too,  have  something 
to  give  away?  You  could  help  me  in  this, 
Inga." 

Inga's  eyes  still  watched  the  flickering  light 
from  the  stove,  but  at  last  she  turned  to  him 
with  a  conciliating  smile. 

"I  help  you?  You  shouldn't  make  fun  of 
me  Erik." 

But  Erik  grew  quite  eager.  She,  who  had 
more  patience  than  he  had,  could,  for  instance, 
bring  these  people  together  every  Sunday,  and 
read  to  them,  or  give  them  instruction  in  some- 
thing or  other.  It  would  be  good  for  her  too. 
And  he  talked  until  she  felt  quite  grateful.  It 
was  as  though  he  drew  her  thoughts  away  from 
the  little  troubles  up  to  something  larger  and 
more  beautiful. 

"Perhaps  I  might  teach  the  women  up  there 
a  little  embroidery  and  art  weaving,"  she  said, 
putting  her  arm  about  his  neck.  "I  should 
think  it  would  be  of  quite  as  much  use  to  them 
as  those  everlasting  prayer-meetings  they  go 
to." 

"Yes,  I  should  think  it  would." 


258  Treacherous  Ground 

'Outside  the  rain  poured  down  incessantly, 
and  the  river  would  be  sure  to  rise  with  it  all ; 
but  it  was  a  comfort  to  Erik  to  be  sitting  there 
occupied  with  ideas  for  the  good  of  the  New- 
land  people,  and  to  have  his  wife  with  him,  so 
that  he  was  not  alone. 

From  that  time  he  felt  a  strange  necessity 
of  always  being  occupied  with  the  welfare  of 
the  Newland  people.  It  was  as  if  he  feared 
that  if  he  were  not,  the  moral  support  that 
Newland  was  to  him  would  give  way  and  die ; 
and  he  had  to  keep  on  touching  it  to  convince 
himself  that  it  was  alive.  He  never  met  any 
of  the  people  without  stopping  and  asking 
how  they  were  getting  on;  he  advised  them 
as  to  which  newspaper  they  ought  to  take  in ; 
he  lent  them  books ;  he  went  up  on  little  visits 
of  inspection  to  see  that  they  kept  the  air  in 
their  cottages  pure;  he  lent  them  horses  for 
ploughing;  and  he  got  them  free  medical  at- 
tendance by  the  doctor  of  the  district.  He  was 
never  quite  at  ease  unless  some  new  thing  or 
other  for  their  good  was  in  view,  as  though 
it  were  necessary  to  pile  layer  upon  layer  of 
benefits  over  this  fear  that  he  was  so  anxious 
to  hide. 

All  this  time  Newland  was  becoming  more 
and  more  precious  to  Erik.  Its  spiritual  value 


Treacherous  Ground  259 

grew  and  grew  according  to  the  sacrifices  it 
cost  him,  the  sum  of  memories  of  himself  be- 
came greater  and  greater,  and  every  time  it 
caused  him  a  new  anxiety,  a  new  joy,  it  was 
as  if  he  carried  a  new  treasure  up  there  out 
of  his  own  soul.  His  secret  fear  of  a  landslip 
became  more  and  more  an  anxiety  lest  he  him- 
self had  suffered,  striven  and  longed  -in  vain ; 
lest  this  time,  too,  he  had  made  a  mistake  and 
devoted  himself  to  a  phantom;  lest  the  good 
he  had  cherished  in  himself  and  practised 
towards  these  people  were  quite  useless;  lest, 
indeed,  the  debt  of  conscience  that  he  thought 
he  had  paid  were  also  possibly  self-deception, 
and  he  just  as  guilty,  just  as  spiritedly  home- 
less, just  as  rootless  as  he  had  been  that  sev-  J 
enteenth-of-May  evening  in  the  festive  town. 
It  could  not  possibly  be  so,  for  he  was  far 
too  comfortable;  but  the  secret  fear  was  a 
spur  that  was  constantly  forcing  him  into 
gloomy  reveries.  Sometimes  when  he  was 
driving  home  from  a  party  where  he  had  been 
the  gayest  of  the  company,  he  would  suddenly 
become  silent  and  sad,  because  he  realised 
that  all  human  pleasure  only  consists  in  for- 
getting the  dangers  always  lying  in  wait  for 
one.  When  he  was  out  walking  with  his  wife, 
he  would  stand  and  look  at  a  beautiful  sunset, 


260  Treacherous  Ground 

but  the  next  moment  think:  "Well,  but  what 
do  we  human  beings  signify  to  all  this  ?"  What 
does  the  sun  care,  the  mountains,  the  sea,  the 
quagmire,  that  men  go  about  with  a  soul  crav- 
ing for  beauty  and  eternity  ? ' '  When  at  night, 
after  a  well-spent  day,  he  lay  thinking  with 
pleasure  of  the  services  he  had  done  the  New- 
land  people,  the  dull  sound  of  the  waterfall 
would  suddenly  begin  to  speak  a  different 
language  altogether.  "Yes,  you  may  do  so 
much  good  that  Newland  becomes  a  perfect 
paradise,  but  some  day  it  will  be  my  turn." 
Was  it  so  I  No,  no,  it  could  not  be ! 

But  this  hidden  fear  constantly  required 
fresh  acts  of  kindness  of  him  in  order  to  be 
kept  down ;  and  gradually  a  great  change  took 
place  in  Erik  Evje.  He  began  to  interest  him- 
self in  others  besides  the  Newland  people ;  and 
it  soon  became  known  in  the  parish  that  no 
needy  person  went  empty-handed  from  Evje 
Farm,  and  Erik  himself  became  gentle  and 
tolerant  even  towards  persons  whom  he  for- 
merly could  not  endure. 

It  was  as  though  he  would  say:  "Well, 
though  that  man  may  be  wrong  now,  I  may 
be  another  time."  People  began  to  like  his 
company,  not  only  because  he  had  so  much  to 
talk  about,  but  because  he  could  also  be  quiet 


Treacherous  Ground  261 

and  listen,  so  that  other  people  could  say 
something. 

The  autumn  rains  left  off,  and  then  began 
again;  then  snow  fell,  and  Erik  breathed  a 
sigh  of  relief.  The  cold  weather  was  coming, 
and  the  danger  was  over  for  the  present.  But 
the  snow  was  carried  away  by  fresh  rain,  and 
the  noise  of  the  waterfall  grew  louder  and 
louder  through  the  long  nights. 

It  was  then  that  Erik  began  to  work  upon 
something  in  the  evenings  at  home,  and  while 
the  two  women  sat  near  with  their  needlework, 
talking  in  undertones  so  as  not  to  disturb  him, 
his  fair  head  was  bent  over  his  calculations 
and  writing,  and  books  and  papers  surrounded 
him.  He  was  working  out  a  proposal  for  a 
law  for  the  compulsory  handing  over  of 
uncultivated  land  to  labourers,  so  that  every 
father  of  a  family  could  have  an  opportunity 
of  acquiring  a  house,  a  garden  and  a  cow  of 
his  own. 

Week  after  week  he  sat  thus,  and  at  last 
Inga  became  impatient.  "Why,  dear  me," 
she  said;  "there's  no  getting  a  word  out  of 
you  now,  Erik.  You're  in  the  office  all  day, 
and  now  you  sit  without  saying  a  syllable  too." 

He  looked  up  and  smiled,  as  if  from  a  great 
distance.  "Fill  that  for  me,"  he  said,  as  he 


262  Treacherous  Ground 

handed  her  his  pipe  and  went  on  with  his 
writing. 

They  were  sitting  thus  one  evening,  when 
Fru  Evje,  looking  out  of  the  window,  called  to 
them  to  come  and  look.  .  Inga  went,  but  Erik 
sat  motionless.  The  two  women  saw  out  upon 
the  fjord  a  long  row  of  yellow,  rocking  lights, 
moving  inwards.  They  counted  fifty  of  them. 
It  was  like  a  gigantic  fiery  serpent,  stretching 
out  over  the  fjord,  as  far  as  they  could  see. 
1 1 It 's  a  fishing  company, ' '  said  Fru  Evj e.  "I 
suppose  the  herring  are  farther  up  the  fjord." 

"Is  it?"  said  Erik  without  moving. 

The  two  women  seated  themselves  again. 
Inga's  thoughts,  of  late,  had  been  occupied 
with  a  secret  matter  that  no  one  knew  of  but 
her  husband ;  but  while  she  sat  there  wonder- 
ing whether  it  would  be  a  boy  or  a  girl,  and 
have  fair  or  dark  hair  she  felt  that  his 
thoughts  were  never  occupied  with  her  for  a 
moment,  but  far,  far  away  in  other  things. 
And  when  at  last  she  rose  to  go  to  bed,  he  al- 
ways said  that  he  would  follow  her  immedi- 
ately; but  she  would  often  fall  asleep,  and  it 
would  be  very  late  when  she  was  awakened 
by  his  coming. 

Erik  sat  far  on  into  the  night,  calculating 
and  writing.  He  found  it  hard  to  tear  himself 


Treacherous  Ground  263 

away  from  this  work,  for  he  had  an  undefined 
feeling  that  by  it  he  was  moving  his  workmen's 
holdings  over  on  to  firmer  ground.  He  had 
embarked  so  far  upon  this  matter,  which  he 
feared  might  be  fateful,  that  he  felt  that  he 
must  have  more  and  more  people  associated 
with  it  in  order  to  feel  easy  in  his  mind.  New- 
land  must  become  a  national  matter,  and  the 
more  beautiful  it  became,  the  richer  it  would 
feel  for  his  own  heart.  There  would  be  thou- 
sands of  little  cottages  in  which  happy  fam- 
ilies lived,  and  he  would  sit  there,  and,  as  it 
were,  nod  to  them  all,  because  he  knew  them. 
There  was  Peter  and  Olina  and  Bertil  and 
Lars  over  and  over  again  thousands  of  times, 
/~and  they  were  all  like  an  embodiment  of  some- 
thing beautiful  in  himself,  created  out  of  his 
longing  for  things  beyond  the  everyday  life, 
beyond  death  itself.  The  smoke  would  rise 
from  these  cottages  when  he  lay  in  his  grave ; 
there  would  be  smiles  behind  those  window- 
panes  when  every  one  had  forgotten  him ;  the 
i  flowers  would  bloom  in  those  gardens  through 
j  endless  ages ;  and  the  whole  of  it  was  created 
by  him ;  it  was  as  if  his  own  soul  looked  up  in 
each  smile,  each  loving  word,  each  flower  that 
opened  in  the  many  gardens.  That  was  one 
way  of  being  everlasting ;  it  was  a  resurrection 


264  Treacherous  Ground 

to  life,  over  and  over  again.  In  Newland  lie 
saved  his  soul  from  stagnating,  and  now  he 
was  saving  it  from  death.  It  was  a  religious 
joy  that  made  his  periods  glow;  and  the  hours 
sped. 

"Erik,  aren't  you  coming  to  bed  at  all  to- 
night?" 

"Yes,  I'm  coming  now." 

But  even  when  he  was  in  bed,  he  was  too 
wide-awake  to  sleep  and,  as  he  lay,  the  dream 
seemed  slowly  to  vanish,  and  his  days  become 
grey  and  bare  again.  Outside  in  the  night  he 
could  hear  the  rain  again,  the  waves  sighing 
and  sobbing  upon  the  beach,  and  the  noise  of 
the  waterfall  going  on  and  on  in  its  old,  cold 
language. 

"Yes,  you  may  build  up  and  build  up  gigan- 
tic dreams  but  it  all  depends  upon  me  in  the 
end.  Your  mind  may  be  enlarged  and  make 
not  only  the  present  time,  but  all  ages,  its 
own,  as  it  did  this  evening,  when  you  hovered 
above  the  whole  agrarian  development  from 
the  time  of  Tiberius  Gracchus,  down  through 
the  centuries  to  yourself.  In  the  future  the 
whole  world  may  be  transformed  into  a  garden, 
and  all  men  may  dance  for  joy;  but  beyond 
that  am  I.  There  I  sing  the  concluding  hymn 
over  you  all.  When  this  earth  is  a  frozen,  peri- 


Treacherous  Ground  265 

natetic  churchyard,  moving  insanely  about  in 
"empty  space,  where  then  is  your  soul?" 

Erik  lay  listening  to  the  ceaseless  noise  that 
sounded  like  Nature's  derisive  laughter  at 
everything  that  man  did,  like  a  song  from 
lifeless  lips,  and  a  hissing  from  the  barren,  in- 
finite nothing  in  which  all  things  end.  At  last 
he  turned  over. 

"Are  you  asleep,  Inga?" 

"No." 

"May  I  come  into  your  bed  for  a  little?" 

"Yes,"  she  whispered,  making  room  for 
him. 

He  crept  close  to  her,  and  in  the  darkness 
his  lips  sought  hers.  It  was  true  she  had  been 
lying  thinking  about  her  little  baby,  and  he 
about  something  quite  different;  but  never- 
theless their  lips  met  in  a  long  kiss,  as  though 
it  were  their  souls  that  had  sought  refuge  with 
each  other  in  the  darkness. 

"Why  can't  you  sleep,  Erik?" 

"I  don't  know.  Sometimes  I  lie  and  think 
how  meaningless  it  is  that  beyond  everything 
there  shouldn't  be  a  heart  that  took  pity  upon 
us  all." 

She  laid  her  cheek  to  his,  and  presently  said : 
"I've  become  so  sure  there  is,  since  our  little 


266  Treacherous  Ground 

baby  received  life.  It  seems  utterly  impossible 
that  it  could  ever  be  quite  extinguished  again. " 
He  lay  quiet  for  a  little,  and  then  answered 
her  with  a  new  kiss;  and  at  last,  with  their 
arms  round  one  another,  they  fell  asleep.  And 
while  they  slept,  the  waves  and  the  water-fall 
went  on  with  their  song  all  through  the  night. 


Chapter  VII 


The  winter  passed,  and  spring  came  and  then 
summer,  and  the  life  at  Evje  went  on  as  usual. 
This  year  Erik  had  a  fresh  reason  to  be 
pleased,  for  he  had  received  prizes  for  two 
young  horses  that  had  been  bred  since  he  came 
home ;  and  this  presented  a  fresh  opening  for 
his  activity. 

One  day  a  young  man,  who  was  pursuing 
scientific  studies  in  the  Evje  woods,  came  home 
to  the  farm,  and  said:  " Fancy!  All  the  ant- 
hills about  Newland  have  become  empty  dur- 
ing the  last  few  days,  and  there  is  a  great  emi- 
gration westward.  Wherever  you  look,  they 
are  swarming  in  the  same  direction,  away 
from  the  old  country.  I  should  very  much 
like  to  know  the  reason." 

No  one  took  much  notice  of  this,  but  the 
same  day,  as  .the  doctor  of  the  district  was 
driving  up  the  hill  below  Newland,  he  saw  his 
black  Finn  dog  appear  up  on  the  bluffs,  and 
the  wise  animal  whined  and  howled,  as  much 

267 


268  Treacherous  Ground 

as  to  say:  "Come  here,  come  here!"  "Yes, 
I  should  think  so!"  said  the  doctor  to  himself, 
smiling,  for  he  was  acquainted  with  his  dog's 
little  devices;  but  the  next  instant  his  horse 
pricked  up  his  ears,  rolled  his  eyes,  and,  alter- 
ing his  step,  suddenly  set  off  at  a  wild  gallop. 
The  mud  splashed  up  from  the  road,  and  the 
doctor  held  on  to  the  reins  with  all  his  might, 
vainly  calling  "Prr!"  It  was  the  first  time 
the  steady  old  horse  had  ever  taken  fright.  But 
it  was  not  until  they  were  close  to  Evje  Farm 
that  the  horse  was  stopped  by  a  workman, 
and  it  was  still  trembling  and  snorting  and 
rolling  its  eyes  backwards.  The  dog  had 
stayed  behind  upon  the  bluffs,  and  they  could 
hear  it  all  the  time  howling  dismally.  A  boy 
was  sent  back  to  see  if  anything  was  the  mat- 
ter; but  the  only  thing  he  discovered  was  a 
flock  of  crows,  hovering  like  a  cloud  over  New- 
land,  and  making  a  terrible  noise.  Up  on  the 
little  farms  the  people  were  in  the  cornfields 
reaping  in  the  sunlight,  and  the  smoke  from 
the  chimneys  was  rising  straight  up  into  the 
clear,  warm,  autumn  day.  So  no  more  was 
said  about  this,  although  the  dog's  howling 
could  be  heard  all  the  evening,  always  from 
the  same  quarter. 
Bertil  Sveen  rose  early  the  next  morning,  as 


Treacherous  Ground  269 

he  was  going  to  bring  home  a  load  of  firewood 
before  he  went  to  the  sawmill.  Ingeborg  lay 
without  speaking,  while  she  heard  him  groping 
about  after  the  porridge  and  milk.  She  was 
at  last  going  to  have  a  child  too ;  but  she  had 
gradually  come  to  feel  certain  that  it  would  be 
stillborn,  and  that  her  mother,  who  lay  in  her 
grave,  was  in  some  way  or  other  to  blame.  It 
was  her  punishment  for  taking  Bertil,  and  it 
was  of  no  use  trying  to  escape  from  it.  But 
whenever  she  let  Bertil  suspect  her  fear,  he 
made  light  of  it  and  called  it  nonsense,  just 
as  if  he  could  know  so  much  better  than  she 
did.  But  she  found  it  hard  to  forgive  him  for 
taking  it  in  that  way. 

When  he  went  out,  he  said  good-bye,  but 
she  pretended  to  be  asleep,  and  did  not  answer. 

Suddenly,  however,  she  heard  his  step  re- 
turning, the  door  burst  open,  and  he  rushed 
wildly  into  the  room.  " Ingeborg!"  he  cried, 
"make  haste  and  get  up!  Oh,  God  help  us!" 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked,  but  did  not  move. 

"The  cowshed!"  he  stammered,  taking  hold 
of  her  to  make  her  get  up.  "The  cowshed's 
gone,  Ingeborg!" 

This  was  senseless.  The  cowshed  gone? 
Was  he  out  of  his  mind  ?  She  sat  up  in  bed 
and  took  hold  of  him.  "Bertil,  are  you  talk- 


270  Treacherous  Ground 

ing  in  your  sleep?  The  cowshed,  did  you 
say?" 

"Oh,  come,  come,  Ingeborg!  Perhaps  we 
can  escape  still." 

He  took  her  up,  as  if  to  carry  her  out,  when 
suddenly  a  dish  fell  from  the  table  on  to  the 
floor,  and  the  cottage  rocked  like  a  ship  in  a 
storm.  "Bertil!  Bertil!"  shrieked  Ingeborg, 
at  last  clinging  to  him.  Bertil  was  carrying 
her  towards  the  door,  but  at  that  moment  there 
was  a  noise  like  the  dragging  of  a  heavy  stone 
over  the  ground.  It  was  the  cottage  moving. 
The  stove  fell  down,  and  from  the  kitchen 
came  the  sound  of  pots  and  pans  tumbling 
about ;  and  all  the  time  the  cottage  seemed  to 
be  sliding,  sliding.  When  at  last  it  came  to  a 
standstill,  the  two  occupants  were  thrown 
against  the  wall,  a  window  was  broken,  and  a 
little  stream  of  water  burst  in  across  the  floor. 
The  man  and  woman  staggered  about  for  a 
while,  bruised,  bewildered  with  terror,  but 
driven  by  a  mad  desire  to  escape.  It  had  be- 
come pitch-dark  in  the  room,  so  that  they  could 
see  nothing.  They  cried  for  help,  again  and 
again;  they  moved  about,  but  kept  knocking 
up  against  furniture  that  was  beginning  to 
float  about,  as  the  water  poured  ceaselessly 
in  through  the  broken  window.  For  a  moment 


Treacherous  Ground  271 

they  stood  silent,  holding  on  firmly,  for  they 
heard  the  wall  creaking  under  a  pressure,  and 
they  knew  that  if  it  gave  way,  they  were  lost. 
But  suddenly  Ingeborg's  terror  turned  to  rage 
against  Bertil.  "  Why  didn't  you  come  sooner 
to  save  me?"  she  cried.  "It's  too  late  now. 
Oh  dear,  oh  dear !  We  sha'n't  be  saved,  you'll 
see!"  And  she  began  to  sob  in  mingled  rage 
and  despair.  "Oh,  God  help  us!"  she  stam- 
mered, but  the  next  instant  she  heard  a  move- 
ment from  Bertil,  and  exclaimed:  "You  al- 
ways were  so  slow.  Oh,  if  you'd  only  been  a 
little  quicker!  Oh,  oh!"  Bertil  did  not  an- 
swer. He  was  trying  to  feel  whether  the  door 
could  not  be  opened,  so  that  they  could  get  out, 
but  he  groped  in  vain,  not  knowing  that  the 
cottage  was  half  on  its  side,  so  that  the  door 
was  almost  over  their  heads.  At  last  he  gave 
it  up  and  sank  down  on  to  what  he  found  was 
the  table,  which  was  lying  tipped  up.  "  It 's  no 
use,  Ingeborg,"  he  said  at  last.  "We  can't 
get  out." 

"Is  this  the  end,  then,  Bertil?"  she  said, 
a  little  more  gently.  "Yes,  I  don't  see  how 
we're  to  escape  now."  "What  is  it?  Is  it 
the  Day  of  Judgment?"  "No,  it's  the  land- 
slip." "Oh,  then  I  suppose  we'r°  buried  now. 
Good  heavens!"  Ingeborg  was  moving  in- 


272  Treacherous  Ground 

cessantly  from  place  to  place,  as  the  water  be- 
gan to  rise  about  her  feet. 

Suddenly  she  understood  that  death  was 
near.  It  might  come  at  any  moment.  And 
what  she  had  been  thinking  most  about  lately, 
the  stillborn  child,  that  had  all  been  imagina- 
tion. She  still  felt  it  living,  and  the  day  would 
never  come  when  she  would  be  able  to  point  to 
the  little  creature  with  its  closed  eyes,  and  say 
to  Bertil:  " That's  because  I  married  you." 

It  almost  felt  like  an  imposture.  Why  then 
had  she  gone  and  gathered  together  all  these 
dark  thoughts,  and  been  in  dread  night  and 
day? 

"The  wall  will  soon  give  way,"  said  Bertil. 

"God  help  us !  That  will  be  the  end.  Where 
are  you,  Bertil;  where  are  you?" 

"Here!  Here!"  And  they  began  to  grope 
after  one  another,  until  they  met,  and  then 
seized  each  other's  hands  as  if  afraid  of  being 
alone — when  the  wall  gave  way. 

Thus  they  stood  close  together;  every  mo- 
ment expecting  the  catastrophe ;  but  the  min- 
utes passed,  the  wall  creaked  incessantly  but 
still  held,  and  only  the  water  and  the  thick 
clay  could  be  heard  streaming  in. 

"Oh,  I'm  getting  so  wet,  Bertil." 

"Poor  thing!     Wait  a  little!"     And  he 


Treacherous  Ground  273 

groped  his  way  to  the  overturned  table,  which 
he  managed  to  set  upon  its  legs,  so  that  she 
could  sit  upon  it. 

"Oh,  I  wish  it  would  come  soon,  Bertil." 

"The  water !"  he  said,  seating  himself  beside 
her.  And  suddenly  she  understood  what  he 
meant.  The  water  that  was  incessantly  run- 
ning in  would  soon  fill  the  room. 

"Bertil,"  she  said  in  a  trembling  voice,  "I 
— I  should  like  to  have  seen  you  once  more." 
And  presently  her  hand  passed  falteringly 
over  his  face  as  a  caress. 

"I  think  IVe  got  some  matches,"  Bertil 
remembered  suddenly,  feeling  in  his  waistcoat 
pocket.  "If  only  they've  not  got  wet." 

But  as  he  was  taking  one  out,  a  number  fell 
into  the  water.  It  was  no  use  thinking  any 
more  about  them,  but  the  one  he  had  in  his 
hand  he  struck  carefully  inside  his  jacket 
where  the  lining  must  be  dry.  The  sulphur 
began  to  emit  a  green  smoke,  and  then  burnt 
with  a  steady  flame,  that  just  allowed  Berti] 
to  get  an  idea  of  how  everything  was  floating 
about  in  confusion,  and  to  see  that  the  water 
that  was  streaming  in  was  thick  with  clay. 

Ingeborg  no  longer  cared  about  this.  It  was 
Bertil 's  face  she  saw  for  a  brief  moment,  that 
face  with  the  fringe  of  beard  under  the  chin, 


274  Treacherous  Ground 

which  had  aged  so  in  the  last  few  years. 
Was  it  her  fault  perhaps  ? 

She  turned  away,  and  began  to  sob  again. 
The  match  burned  down  to  his  fingers,  and  he 
dropped  it,  and  once  more  they  sat  in  dark- 
ness. 

"We  must  make  the  best  of  it,  Ingeborg," 
he  said,  trying  to  comfort  her.  "Couldn't  you 
pray  to  Grod  a  little  for  us  both?" 

"I  haven't  been  as  I  ought  to  have  been  to 
you,  Bertil,"  she  sobbed  inconsolably. 

"Oh,  don't  talk  like  that!" 

Their  hands  met  again,  and  they  sat  on,  each 
moment  expecting  death.  They  were  so  pre- 
pared for  it  now,  that  every  second  was  felt 
as  something  precious  that  must  not  be  wasted. 

"Poor  Bertil,"  she  said,  stroking  his  face. 
' '  You  've  worked  so  hard.  And  you  won 't  even 
see  your  child  either." 

"No;  it  wasn't  the  Almighty's  will,  I  sup- 
pose." 

"You  won't  be  angry  with  me,  Bertil,  will 
you?" 

"No,  no.  How  can  you  talk  like  that, 
Ingeborg!" 

And  the  water  continued  to  rise,  so  that  they 
had  to  draw  their  legs  up  on  the  table;  but 
perhaps  they  still  had  a  few  moments  to  talk  in. 


Treacherous  Ground  275 

They  talked  a  little  more,  each  word  like  a 
caress,  perhaps  the  last. 

Suddenly  Ingeborg  happened  to  think  of  all 
the  times  she  had  shown  him  a  cross  and  un- 
kind face — perhaps  every  single  day  since  they 
had  been  together.  If  she  could  make  up  for 
it,  or  only  once  smile  at  him,  as  she  now  felt 
she  ought  always  to  have  done. 

"Bertil,  haven't  you  got  another  match?" 

"No,  I  don't  think  so.  Yes,  wait!  Yes, 
there  is  actually  one  more." 

"Can't  you  try  to  light  it  ?" 

Once  more  he  carefully  drew  the  little  match 
out  of  his  waistcoat  pocket.  They  both  felt 
now  that  in  a  moment  they  would  see  one 
another  for  the  last,  the  very  last  time.  He 
carefully  felt  his  jacket  lining,  to  see  whether 
it  were  dry,  and  struck  the  match ;  the  sulphur 
smoked  again,  and  soon  blazed  up  and  cast  its 
light  on  them  both. 

"Bertil!"  she  said,  with  a  smile  on  her 
tear-stained  face. 

And  he  saw  his  Ingeborg,  to  whom  he  had 
been  engaged  for  so  many  years,  with  a 
brighter,  more  loving  smile  on  her  face  than 
he  had  ever  seen  in  his  life. 

"Thank  you,  Bertil,  for  having  been  so  good 
to  me." 


276  Treacherous  Ground 

"Ingeborg!"  lie  cried;  and  the  strong  man 
was  suddenly  shaken  with  a  strange  sobbing. 
At  last  it  was  the  real  Ingeborg  from  the 
other  side  of  the  fjord  who  was  sitting  here. 

The  match  went  out,  their  hands  met  once 
more,  and  the  next  moment  she  put  her  worn 
arms  about  his  neck. 

"Oh,  Bertil,  Bertil!    I — I  have  loved  you 

so!" 

.  .          [••          .          .1 

The  landslip  that  night  acted  in  various 
ways.  One  household  disappeared  without  a 
sound  in  a  minute,  while  another  was  warned 
by  the  shaking  of  the  buildings. 

In  his  tiny  bedroom  in  Lars's  house,  the  poor 
cripple  lay  writhing  with  rheumatism,  which 
was  particularly  bad  that  night.  But  he  did 
not  complain,  he  did  not  even  make  faces. 
Since  his  parents  died,  and  he  had  been 
knocked  down  to  the  lowest  bidder,  one  after 
another,  he  had  grown  accustomed  to  being 
unhappy  by  himself,  for,  anyhow,  there  was  no 
one  to  comfort  him,  no  matter  how  much  he 
might  complain.  Since  he  had  come  here,  he 
considered  his  lot  a  very  unfortunate  one, 
for  here  they  used  him  as  a  nurse,  and  it  was 
not  only  that  it  was  an  exertion  to  him  to  rush 
here  and  there  on  crutches  after  those  chil- 


Treacherous  Ground  277 

dren,  but  it  was  especially  bad  to  have  to  waste 
hours  in  rocking  the  cradle,  he  who  was  so 
neat-fingered  and  could  do  far  more  difficult 
things. 

"Oh!"  he  said  suddenly,  passing  his  hand 
down  his  thigh,  where  the  pain  was  pricking ' 
and  darting  as  if  red-hot  nails  were  being 
hammered  in.  "Oh!  That's  enough  surely. 
Oh!"  He  writhed  and  looked  towards  the 
window  where  the  dawn  was  already  showing ; 
and,  in  spite  of  the  pain,  the  usual  dreams  be- 
gan to  come.  He  hoped  he  should  soon  have 
made  enough  hooks  to  buy  an  arithmetic ;  for 
he  hoped  by  studying  by  himself  that  he  might 
perhaps  manage  to  get  into  an  office.  That 
would  be  something  better  than  rocking  a 
cradle.  And  yesterday  old  Fru  Evje  herself 
had  come  with  a  heap  of  broken  crockery  that 
he  was  to  rivet.  He  would  get  something  for 
that  too,  and,  besides,  her  visit  was  the  greatest 
honour  that  had  ever  happened  to  him.  He  had 
carefully  put  the  crockery  against  the  wall 
over  there  by  the  window — if  only  the  children 
did  not  get  hold  of  it. 

He  heard  Petra  get  up,  but  no  man's  voice, 
so  he  concluded  that  Lars  had  not  been  at  home 
last  night.  Then  he  sat  up  in  bed,  and  his 
thoughts  began  to  busy  themselves  with  the  ' 


278  Treacherous  Ground 

new  day.  What  had  lie  to  dread  or  be  glad 
about  1  He  dreaded  having  to  rock  the  cradle, 
and  was  sorry  that  Lars  had  not  come  home 
with  brass  wire  for  the  crockery,  which  he  was 
to  have  bought  for  him  yesterday ;  and  he  was 
glad  to  think  that  a  woman  down  in  the  village, 
who  owed  him  twenty  ore  for  hooks,  would 
probably  come  and  pay  him  to-day.  What 
else  ?  There  was  nothing  more  for  him  in  this 
new  day. 

Suddenly  the  cottage  was  shaken,  and  he 
heard  Petra  run  across  the  floor.  The  next 
moment  the  crockery  tumbled  down  from  the 
wall  with  a  crash.  He  darted  forward  as  he 
might  have  done  to  save  a  child  that  was  going 
to  fall  into  a  well.  The  large  dish  was  in  four 
pieces,  the  jug  in  two,  the  coffee-pot  was 
cracked  right  across,  and  the  plates  were  in 
several  little  pieces.  Oh  dear,  oh  dear!  He 
began  to  creep  about  on  his  knees  and  pick 
up  the  pieces.  Then  he  sat  down  on  the  floor, 
and  tried  to  fit  the  pieces  together,  and,  yes, 
with  care  most  of  them  might  still  be  mended, 
although  there  would  now  be  ten  times  as 
much  work.  Suddenly  the  table  was  over- 
turned, the  windows  rattled,  and  there  came  a 
cry  from  the  next  room ;  but  the  cripple  was 
quite  taken  up  with  a  fresh  destruction  of  his 


Treacherous  Ground  279 

crockery.  The  big  dish  was  broken  into  still 
more  pieces,  and  with  it  his  ambition  and  hopes 
for  a  long  time  to  come  were  destroyed.  Once 
more  he  began  to  crawl  about  to  gather  up  the 
pieces.  He  heard  Petra  shriek  once  more,  this 
time  outside,  and  the  babies  screamed.  Then 
he  heard  some  one  laugh.  Really,  was  this 
anything  to  laugh  at  ?  Thereupon  the  cottage 
began  to  creak  and  move ;  but  the  cripple  had 
caught  sight  of  another  fragment  under  the 
bed,  and  he  stooped  and  crawled  under  to  get 
it,  and  presently  he  was  once  more  sitting  upon 
the  floor  trying  to  fit  together  the  fragments  of 
the  finest  dish.  Perhaps  it  might  still  do ;  per- 
haps there  was  still  a  possibility. 

But  suddenly  there  was  a  dull  noise,  and  the 
cottage  began  to  slide  like  a  sledge ;  and  fresh 
cries  came  from  outside,  but  this  time  they 
seemed  to  come  from  the  roof.  Yes,  they 
might  call  for  him  as  much  as  they  liked,  but 
he  was  not  going  to  leave  this  crockery.  He 
was  thrown  against  the  wall,  and  cried  for 
help ;  but  no  one  answered  him,  and.  he  was 
so  used  to  that.  He  recovered  himself,  how- 
ever, there  could  not  be  so  very  much  the  mat- 
ter; and  once  more  his  attention  was  turned 
to  the  bits  of  china — once  more,  almost  in  tears, 
he  began  to  gather  up  the  pieces.  But  now 


280  Treacherous  Ground 

most  of  them  were  hopelessly  broken ;  perhaps 
nothing  could  be  done ;  and  his  tears  suddenly 
began  to  fall.  But  see,  that  dish  might  be  put 
together  for  kitchen  use  at  any  rate ;  and  once 
more  he  took  courage  and  began  collecting  the 
pieces,  until  another  blow  on  the  house  broke 
in  the  walls,  and  both  he  and  the  pieces  of  china 
were  buried  under  the  inrushing  debris. 

Petra  had  understood  at  once  what  was  the 
matter,  and  she  knew  people  had  been  saved 
by  getting  up  on  to  the  roof.  When  she  came 
out  of  the  house,  she  was  greeted  by  a  terrible 
lowing  from  their  cow  in  the  cowhouse,  but 
there  was  no  time  to  think  about  it  now.  She 
managed  to  balance  the  ladder  up  against  the 
rafter,  and  had  carried  out  the  children  half 
dressed.  She  first  began  to  crawl  up  the  lad- 
der with  all  three  of  them,  but  found  she  could 
not ;  so  she  left  the  two  youngest  and  took  little 
Jens,  the  red-haired  boy  she  had  had  before 
her  marriage,  over  whom  she  had  shed  most 
tears.  She  held  him  under  her  arm,  and  clung 
to  each  rung  of  the  ladder  with  her  unoccupied 
hand.  But  when  she  reached  the  ridge  of  the 
roof,  she  realised  that  if  she  left  him  up  there 
while  she  fetched  the  other  two,  he  would  only 
fall  off.  It  was  a  terrible  choice — to  stay  there 


Treacherous  Ground  281 

with  him  alone,  or  go  down  and  perish  with 
them  all.  For  a  moment  she  saw  the  strip  of 
red  sky  in  the  east  rising  above  the  mountains. 
In  a  couple  of  hours  the  sun  would  have  risen, 
and  suddenly  she  felt  such  a  desire  to  live  that 
she  put  her  foot  against  the  roof,  and  clasped 
the  boy  to  her  breast,  while  the  two  children 
below  screamed  and  cried  for  their  mother. 

"O  God!"  she  sobbed.  "Save  us!  Save 
me!  Help,  help!" 

"Mother,  mother!"  came  the  cry  from  be- 
low, and  at  last  she  could  stand  it  no  longer, 
and  began  to  feel  her  way  to  the  ladder  again. 

"Lars,  Lars!"  she  cried,  although  she  knew 
it  was  not  possible  for  him  to  hear  her.  Sud- 
denly the  cottage  was  struck  again,  and  the 
ladder  fell  along  the  rafter  and  described  an 
arc  in  the  air.  She  could  not  get  down  now. 

"Mother,  mother!"  came  the  cry  from  be- 
low. For  a  moment  the  poor  woman  pressed 
the  boy  to  her  heart  while  she  looked  up  into 
the  brightening  sky,  her  red  hair  blowing  about 
her  face;  and  then  suddenly  she  broke  into  a 
laugh. 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!"  she  screamed,  beginning  to 
swing  round  as  if  dancing.  "Ha,  ha,  ha!  Is 
it  you,  Lars,  who  are  bringing  all  this  upon 


282  Treacherous  Ground 

us?    Are  you  so  angry?    What  have  I  done 
to  you?    Ha,  ha,  ha!" 

It  was  this  that  the  cripple  had  heard  while 
he  was  crawling  about  among  his  pieces  of 
china. 


Chapter  VIII 


The  weather  during  these  days  of  October  was 
unusually  fine  and  there  was  a  daily  stream 
of  people  from  village  and  town  to  visit  the 
scene  of  the  catastrophe.  The  authorities, 
with  the  civil  governor  of  the  province  at  their 
head,  came  to  draw  up  a  report,  journalists 
telegraphed  and  wrote,  and  photographers  did 
good  business. 

People  were  constantly  coming  in  to  Evje 
Farm,  because  it  was  so  near  the  scene  of  the 
disaster;  and  Fru  Evje  and  Inga  received 
them  and  tried  to  satisfy  every  one.  They 
had  to  make  excuse  for  Erik,  for  the  disaster 
had  affected  him  so  deeply  that  he  could  not 
see  anybody. 

When  Fru  Evje  had  gone  to  rest  after  a 
busy  day,  she  would  sometimes  lie  with  her 
hands  folded  on  the  sheet  in  front  of  her,  think- 
ing: "Yes;  the  Almighty  wants  to  show  that 
He  still  exists.  What  He  gives  us  He  doesn't 

283 


284  Treacherous  Ground 

want  us  to  throw  away.  I  said  so  to  Erik 
when  he  started  upon  this."  And  although 
it  was  not  at  all  what  she  had  said,  she  'be- 
lieved so  now,  and  that  the  Almighty  proved 
in  the  end  that  she  was  right. 

It  was  a  hard  time  for  young  Fru  Evje 
during  these  days.  She  would  sometimes  feel 
a  vague  fear  that  she,  too,  had  a  share  in  the 
blame  for  the  catastrophe,  but  it  was  quite 
thrown  into  the  shade  by  all  that  rested  upon 
her  now.  She  had  to  keep  her  husband  up, 
the  daily  inspection  of  the  farm  rested  upon 
her,  and  every  now  and  then  she  had  to  attend 
to  her  baby,  which  was  already  several  months 
old.  When  she  sat  with  this  little  round  blue- 
eyed  creature  at  her  breast,  everything  outside 
her  seemed  so  strangely  trivial,  even  her  hus- 
band's restless  step  pacing  up  and  down  the 
attic  above  her,  which  at  other  times  had  such 
a  depressing  effect  upon  her. 

"Can  you  smile  a  little  to-day ?"  she  said, 
as  the  little  one  paused  in  its  sucking,  and 
turned  its  face  to  look  at  her.  "  Smile,  then, 
little  silly !"  And  when  the  baby  smiled,  she 
felt  so  glad  that  she  would  often  laugh  aloud, 
strange  though  it  sounded  now  in  the  big, 
gloomy  house. 

In  Rein's  house,  too,  the  disaster  had  cast 


Treacherous  Ground  285 

its  shadow,  and  for  the  first  few  days  after  it 
had  happened  Fru  Rein  was  at  her  wits'  end; 
for  Rein  became  so  strangely  quiet  after  that 
day.  He  showed  no  triumph  over  having  been 
right ;  he  did  not  scold  her  for  her  behaviour 
in  the  matter.  He  would  not  talk  about  it  at 
all,  and  if  visitors  came  and  began  to  relate 
something  new  about  the  disaster,  he  got  up 
and  went  quietly  out.  He  had  an  unusual 
amount  of  work  to  do,  and  sat  writing  and 
drawing,  eagerly  and  unceasingly,  until  far 
into  the  night.  Even  when  he  came  to  bed, 
his  wife  noticed  that  he  did  not  sleep.  His 
manner  to  her  was  kind,  but  it  was  a  kindness 
that  made  her  uncomfortable.  The  rooms 
seemed  to  have  become  strangely  cold,  but  she 
had  nothing  to  reproach  him  with.  He  let  her 
have  her  way  in  everything;  it  was  only  that 
he  was  so  busy  that  he  could  never  be  with  her. 
She  began  to  wish  that  he  would  break  through 
this  icy  coat  of  mail,  and  would  not  have 
minded  if  he  had  given  way  to  a  violent  out- 
burst, for  it  would  have  cleared  the  air. 

It  was  to  bring  this  about  that  she  took 
courage  one  evening  and  went  up  to  him  in  his 
study.  Rein  was  standing  with  a  green  shade 
over  his  eyes,  drawing,  and  she  sat  down  near 


286  Treacherous  Ground 

him,  and  boldly  began  to  talk  about  the  ca- 
tastrophe. 

He  pushed  back  the  shade  and  looked  at 
her  kindly,  but  then  went  on  again  with  his 
drawing. 

"And  fancy!"  she  said.  "Besides  Lars 
Brovold,  there  was  only  one  little  girl  saved. 
She  was  carried  upon  the  roof  of  a  house  down 
to  the  sawmill,  but  she  can't  tell  how  she  came 
to  be  upon  the  roof.  She's  one  of  the  miller's 
children." 

In  a  little  while  Rein  answered:  "Yes,  it's 
very  strange."  As  he  spoke,  he  adjusted  his 
ruler  preparatory  to  ruling  a  line. 

Fru  Rein  talked  on  as  if  to  get  nearer  to 
the  end  she  wanted  to  attain.  She  spoke  of 
Evje,  and  how  he  had  not  been  equal  to  going 
up  to  the  landslip  yet.  And  in  a  little  while 
Rein  answered,  as  he  turned  the  lamp  a  little 
higher:  "Yes,  it's  natural  that  he'll  feel  it." 

Fru  Rein  talked  on  and  her  husband  an- 
swered her  pleasantly;  but  she  got  no  nearer 
to  him.  She  went  on,  however,  until  she  could 
stand  it  no  longer,  but  said,  almost  in  tears: 
"And  you  were  right  after  all,  Ingvald." 

He  answered  in  a  tone  of  apparent  surprise 
that  he  should  mention  anything  so  unimpor- 
tant: "Oh  yes!"  Then,  as  he  ruled  another 


Treacherous  Ground  287 

line,  he  added  casually:  " There  isn't  always  a 
pleasure  in  being  right. " 

"No;  is  there,  Ingvald?"  And  drying  her 
eyes  she  went  on:  "But,  oh  dear,  a  thing  like 
this  is  really  enough  to  make  anyone  doubt  the 
existence  of  God." 

Rein  answered  quietly,  as  if  he  were  wonder- 
ing whether  his  pencil  were  too  hard  or  not : 
"Oh,  there  may  very  well  be  a  God,  even  if 
you  or  I  are  mistaken  about  something." 

She  thought  for  a  little  and  then  said: 
"And  I've  been  imagining  all  the  time  that 
it  was  the  duty  of  every  one  to  look  as  much 
as  possible  upon  the  bright  side  of  things." 

"If  only  what's  bright  to  us  isn't  dark  to 
others,"  said  Rein,  drawing  again  with  re- 
newed interest. 

No,  she  got  no  further  with  him ;  it  did  not 
matter  what  she  said,  she  might  just  as  well 
go.  But,  as  she  rose  to  go  away  once  more  un- 
reconciled, she  burst  into  tears,  and  sank 
down  again  with  her  hands  before  her  face. 

"Ingvald!"  she  said.  "Won't  you  help  me 
a  little." 

He  very  nearly  dropped  everything  to  go 
and  put  his  arms  about  her,  but  he  restrained 
himself.  "For  when  people  want  to  make 
amends  for  even  the  worst  of  mistakes,"  he 


288  Treacherous  Ground 

said  to  himself,  "they  have  recourse  to  the 
easy  way  of  shedding  tears;  but  that  won't 
make  dead  people  alive  any  the  more."  Aloud 
he  said,  looking  over  the  lamp,  with  a  smile: 
"You  shake  the  table,  my  dear,  so  that  I  can't 
draw." 

She  raised  her  head  and  looked  at  him  with 
eyes  that  grew  more  and  more  hopeless,  then 
got  up  and  slipped  quietly  out.  But  no  sooner 
had  the  door  closed  than  Rein  dropped  what 
he  had  in  his  hands,  and  sat  staring  into  the 
lamp. 

He  made  up  his  mind  that  he  would  not 
see  the  scene  of  the  disaster,  but  the  following 
day  he  received  a  command  from  the  governor 
of  the  province  to  go  up  there  forthwith,  and 
report  upon  the  cause  of  the  landslip.  Rein 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  thought  this  had 
come  a  little  late;  but  he  had  the  horse  put 
into  the  carriole,  and  drove  off. 

As  he  approached  Evje  Farm,  he  saw  dis- 
tinctly what  he  had  fancied  he  saw  from  his 
own  windows — namely,  that  the  water  of  the 
fjord  at  the  mouth  of  the  river  was  cut  in 
two,  as  it  were,  by  a  whitish-grey  band.  It 
was  the  clay  that  kept  running  out  from  the 
landslip,  like  blood  from  a  wound  that  is  in- 
visible; and  an  uncomfortable  feeling  seized 


Treacherous  Ground  289 

him  at  the  thought  of  having  to  go  up  to  the 
spot. 

He  left  the  horse  and  the  boy  at  the  bottom 
of  the  bluffs,  and  went  up  alone  past  the  saw- 
mill. He  was  surprised  to  see  that  everything 
was  at  a  standstill  here,  and  that  the  fall  had 
shrunk  to  a  few  scattered  jets  of  muddy 
water;  but  higher  up  he  found  the  cause  of 
this,  as  he  stood  with  the  scene  of  devastation 
in  front  of  him.  The  landslip  had  stopped 
here  where  the  valley  contracted  above  the  fall, 
and  had  heaped  itself  up  across  the  river,  thus 
forming  a  little  mountain,  which  dammed  up 
the  river  and  turned  the  valley  behind  it  into 
a  lake.  Where  Newland  had  once  lain, 
there  was  now  a  grey  chasm,  one  side  of 
which  descended  in  little  terraces  to  the  water. 
The  other  side  was  bare  rock,  like  bone  from 
which  the  flesh  has  been  stripped.  Water  ran 
unceasingly  from  the  chasm,  like  matter  from 
a  gigantic  wound,  flowing  over  the  clayey 
slope  down  into  the  clayey  lake.  In  the  middle 
of  the  lake  the  gable  and  half  the  roof  of  a  red 
house  stood  up  out  of  the  water,  looking  like 
a  great  animal  that  had  got  up  on  its  fore- 
legs, and  was  vainly  trying  to  stand  upright. 
Trees,  torn  up  by  the  roots,  stuck  up  obliquely 
here  and  there  from  the  surface,  upon  which 


290  Treacherous  Ground 

there  was  sometimes  a  movement,  an  eddy, 
that  seemed  to  rise  mysteriously  from  the  bot- 
tom, a  monster  bubble  that  rose  and  burst. 
Something  or  other  must  still  be  going  on 
down  in  the  depths. 

It  was  still  the  same  clear,  warm,  autumn 
weather.  Upon  the  hills  round  the  lake,  red 
crowns  of  leaves  stood  out  here  and  there  from 
among  the  evergreen  trees,  and  the  sky  was 
high  and  blue.  Rein  kept  meeting  people  who 
stopped  to  talk. 

"What's  that  black  thing  on  the  roof  of  the 
house?"  he  asked  an  old  workman,  who  was 
creeping  about  with  a  spade  over  his  shoulder. 

"It's  Toger  Shoemaker,  God  help  us!"  said 
the  man. 

"What?  A  man?  And  he's  alive  per- 
haps?" 

He  had  been  alive  at  any  rate  the  first  day 
or  two,  said  the  man  with  the  spade ;  but  since 
yesterday  he  had  been  sitting  motionless,  lean- 
ing against  a  stove-pipe  that  was  sticking  up 
through  the  roof.  Perhaps  he  was  not  alive 
now. 

"But,  good  heavens,  why  haven't  you  res- 
cued him,  then?  It  must  have  been  possible 
to  get  out  with  a  boat?" 

But  the  man  assured  him  that  that  was  just 


Treacherous  Ground  291 

what  could  not  be  done.  The  water  was  as 
thick  as  soup,  almost  like  porridge,  and  it  was 
impossible  to  get  to  him  in  any  other  way. 
They  had  tried  several  times  to  lay  down  a 
floating  bridge,  but  the  current  had  always 
broken  it  up,  and  yesterday,  at  the  last  at- 
tempt, a  man  had  almost  lost  his  life.  The 
shoemaker  had  cried  and  cried  for  help  the 
first  two  days,  but  now  he  had  left  off  and  did 
not  move  at  all. 

Rein  had  to  go  on ;  he  could  not  look  at  that 
house  roof  on  the  water  any  longer — it  was  like 
a  big  living  being  that  kept  on  crying  for  help. 
He  met  others,  to  whom  he  spoke,  and  it  ap- 
peared that  the  popular  imagination  was  al- 
ready at  work.  Some  people  declared  that  no 
longer  ago  than  yesterday  they  had  heard  cries 
from  the  depths.  They  thought  it  was  not  im- 
possible that  some  one  or  other  of  the  buried 
persons  was  still  alive.  A  light  had  been  seen 
from  below  one  night,  as  if  a  candle  were  being 
burnt.  During  the  first  two  days,  while  a 
chimney  still  stood  above  the  water,  smoke  had 
been  seen  to  rise  from  it,  as  if  living  beings 
were  still  trying  to  light  a  fire  down  there. 

Suddenly  Rein  met  a  man  from  town,  with 
spectacles,  who  evidently  knew  him,  for  he 
stopped,  raised  his  hat  and  said  he  was  so-and- 


292  Treacherous  Ground 

so,  a  journalist,  and  would  like  to  know 
whether  it  was  true  that  Rein  had  long  ago 
represented  to  Evje  the  danger  of  living  up 
there.  Rein  looked  away,  and  considered  a 
moment,  and  then  answered:  "No;  it  must 
be  a  mistake." 

He  went  on  again,  and  now  and  then  thought 
he  met  parents  or  other  relatives  of  those  who 
had  perished.  A  few  people  stood  and  gazed 
down  into  the  depths,  crying  and  wailing. 

Rein  turned  to  go  up  the  hill  and  get  above 
the  landslip,  and  had  to  keep  bending  down  to 
avoid  getting  branches  or  twigs  in  his  face. 
The  air  was  full  of  a  strange,  heavy  scent,  that 
reminded  him  of  the  vapour  from  bad  water, 
and  also  of  burnt  clay  or  sand.  He  climbed 
up,  holding  on  to  bushes  and  trees,  for  there 
was  no  longer  any  path,  those  that  the  cattle 
had  trodden  down  having  disappeared,  like 
thin  threads  that  the  landslip  had  cut  off.  At 
last,  when  he  had  reached  the  top  of  the  hill,  he 
came  upon  something  that  agitated  him  afresh. 
It  was  a  fur  cap,  hanging  on  a  bough.  Rein 
took  it  down,  and  saw  that  it  was  worn  and  old. 
One  of  the  Newland  men  must  have  left  it 
there  when  he  was  in  the  forest  chopping  wood. 
The  cap  had  been  saved  but  not  the  man. 

As  he  came  out  on  an  open  place  from  which 


Treacherous  Ground  293 

there  was  a  wide  view  of  the  scene  of  destruc- 
tion, he  saw  a  man  standing  in  front  of  him, 
leaning  against  a  tree.  Eein  did  not  pay  much 
attention  to  him,  but  put  his  field-glass  to  his 
eyes  and  looked  down.  On  the  other  side  of 
the  lake,  he  could  see  a  man  pushing  himself 
out  from  the  shore  in  a  wheelbarrow,  farther 
and  farther.  It  must  be  some  one  who  was 
hoping  to  find  something  or  other  that  be- 
longed to  the  victims  of  the  disaster.  It  looked 
a  foolhardy  proceeding. 

"Do  you  know  who  that  is?"  asked  Rein, 
turning  to  the  man  whom  he  had  seen  near 
him,  and  then  involuntarily  starting  back,  for 
it  was  Erik  Evje. 

Since  their  fateful  meeting  last  spring  the 
two  men  had  met,  it  is  true,  but  never  spoken 
to  one  another.  And  now  they  were  to  meet 
here.  Erik  also  took  a  step  backwards,  and 
looked  as  if  he  wanted  to  escape,  but  the  other 
man  had  asked  a  question,  and  he  thought  it 
best  to  answer  it. 

"That  man?"  he  said,  looking  down  at  the 
man  pulling  himself  along  in  a  wheelbarrow. 
"That's  Lars  Brovold,  the  only  person  who 
was  saved.  He  was  at  home  at  his  parents '  that 
night.  I  suppose  it 's  his  wife  that  he 's  looking 


294  Treacherous  Ground 

for.  But  he's  so  foolhardy  that  we're  all  afraid 
for  him." 

The  words  were  spoken  in  a  tired,  trembling 
voice,  but  they  helped  to  divert  the  agitation 
caused  by  the  men  suddenly  coming  face  to 
face  with  one  another. 

Rein  looked  again  through  his  glasses,  and 
again  found  something  to  say,  although  his 
voice  shook.  Erik  answered;  and  gradually 
they  began  to  talk  to  one  another,  and  now 
and  then  glance  at  one  another. 

"It  was  fortunate  that  your  saw  and  flour 
mills  weren't  carried  away  too,"  said  Rein. 

" Fortunate?  Oh  yes.  Though  I  could 
almost  have  wished  that — that  the  blow  had 
fallen  on  me  too." 

Rein  said  nothing  in  answer  to  this,  but 
once  more  looked  through  his  glasses;  but 
his  hand  trembled.  Presently  he  heard  Erik 
say:  "For  that  matter,  I've  lost  something 
too." 

Rein  looked  at  him  questioningly.  Erik 
was  holding*  on  to  a  branch  above  his  head, 
as  if  to  keep  himself  up.  His  face  was  so 
pale,  so  worn  with  want  of  sleep  and  with 
emotion,  that  Rein  felt  as  if  he  were  looking 
at  a  reflection  of  himself.  For  a  moment  they 
looked  at  one  another,  their  lips  compressed. 


Treacherous  Ground  295 

Erik,  like  one  who  will  ward  off  a  blow  by 
holding  up  his  arms  before  his  face,  repeated : 
"Yes,  IVe  lost  something  too,  you  know." 

Erik  had  been  standing  here  for  hours,  and 
had  succeeded  in  looking  into  something  that 
lay  far,  far  beyond  this  affair  of  the  landslip, 
and  which  was  really  the  terrible  catastrophe 
— for  him. 

Rein  looked  at  him  questioningly.  Erik 
passed  his  hand  across  his  forehead  and  gazed 
down  into  the  clay-grey  lake.  " There's  some- 
thing, Rein,"  he  said,  " that's  worse  to  lose 
than  property  and  life.  That's  what  I — 
His  voice  failed  him,  and  he  could  get  no 
further. 

An  icy  laugh  broke  from  Rein,  and  he  drew 
a  step  or  two  nearer  to  Erik,  as  he  said:  "Oh, 
I  thought  it  was  those  down  there  that  you 
were  thinking  about,"  and  pointed  out  to  the 
landslip. 

Erik  retreated  a  step  and  covered  his  ears 
with  his  hands.  "Rein!"  he  cried,  "I  can't 
bear  it!" 

"I  daresay  not!"  said  Rein,  with  the  same 
cold  laugh,  which  he  was  unable  to  control. 
"Those  down  there  couldn't  bear  it  either." 

"Rein!    What  do  you  want  me  to  do?" 

Rein  was  on  the  point  of  saying:  "I  think 


296  Treacherous  Ground 

you  should  jump  in  too,  Evje;  for  it  must  be 
a  little  embarrassing  to  be  going  about  un- 
harmed when  your  community's  lying  there." 
But  this  time  he  restrained  himself,  and  said 
aloud :" Do?  Well,  it's  a  little  late  now.  Good- 
bye ! ' '  And  he  raised  his  hat  and  went  on. 

He  had  been  unable  any  longer  to  conceal 
his  own  sickness  of  heart,  and  now  he  went 
along  quite  dazed,  with  his  glasses  in  one 
hand,  every  now  and  then  looking  out  over  the 
landslip  and  the  clay  sea,  over  which  the  gentle 
autumn  sun  sent  long  gleams. 

What  had  he  said  to  Evje  ?  Had  he  got  his 
revenge?  But,  good  heavens,  what  did  he 
want  with  revenge  ?  He  had  better  have  held 
out  his  hand  to  the  stricken  man. 

Finally  he  made  his  way  down  to  the  road 
again.  "It  was  one  thing  to  give  a  profes- 
sional opinion  as  to  the  cause  of  the  landslip," 
he  thought,  "but  no  one  will  care  anything 
about  the  moral  cause." 

As  he  drove  home  in  the  carriole,  his  head 
sank  lower  and  lower.  He  thought  of  the  peo- 
ple under  the  landslip,  and  of  Erik  above  it, 
with  his  loss  of  something  more  precious,  and 
of  great  spiritual  leaders,  who  use  men  in 
the  same  way. 


Treacherous  Ground  297 

"And  I  myself?"  he  thought,  as  the  carriole 
skirted  the  fjord. 


The  snow  came  in  the  beginning  of  Novem- 
ber, the  dam  was  broken  through,  and  the  lake 
began  to  empty  itself;  but  it  was  still  impos- 
sible to  get  out  on  to  the  boggy  clay  to  look  for 
the  victims.  Only  one  man  was  there-  every 
day,  going  out  where  no  one  dared  to  follow 
him.  This  was  Lars  Brovold.  He  had  gone 
back  to  live  with  his  parents  in  the  fisherman's 
cottage  by  the  fjord,  and  every  morning  when 
he  set  off,  his  old  mother  would  beg  him  to  de- 
sist. He  went,  however,  without  even  answer- 
ing; and  when,  in  the  evening  she  saw  him 
come  back  again,  she  thanked  God  that  he  was 
still  'alive. 

At  last  one  day  he.  came  into  the  cottage  be- 
fore anyone  expected  him,  and  said:  "I've 
found  her!" 

"God  help  us!  have  you,  Lars?" 

"And  now  I  must  put  together  a  coffin," 
he  went  on,  passing  his  hand  over  his  hair  with 
a  weary  gesture,  "and  then  get  a  horse  at  Evje, 
and  drive  her  up  the  valley,  home  to  her^ 
parents." 

His  mother  was  surprised.   *  *  Up  the  valley  ? 


298  Treacherous  Ground 

But,  dear  me,  Petra's  parents  aren't  there?" 

"Petra?    It's  Kristina,  of  course!"  < 

His  mother  stared  at  him,  but  was  silent. 
So  it  was  not  his  wife  that  he  had  risked  his 
life  to  find. 

"You  must  help  me  carry  her  in,"  he  said 
to  his  father,  who  was  patching  shoes.  "I've 
got  her  on  a  sled." 

His  father  got  up  and  went  with  him,  and 
presently  the  two  men  came  in,  carrying  some- 
thing black  and  frozen,  a  formless  bundle  with 
snow  and  ice  round  it,  which  they  straightway 
placed  upon  the  bed.  The  old  woman  thought 
with  a  sigh  of  the  bed-clothes,  but  would  not 
say  anything. 

A  little  later,  Lars  came  in  with  some  planed 
boards  and  tools,  and  began  hammering,  while 
his  father  tried  once  more  to  go  on  with  his 
shoe-patching.  The  old  woman  spread  a  sheet 
over  the  large  bundle  on  the  bed. 

Under  the  whining  of  the  saw  and  the 
strokes  of  the  hammer,  a  box  began  to  shape 
itself.  And  while  Lars  stood  working  at  this 
coffin,  he  thought  of  much  that  had  happened 
in  the  old  days,  and  of  one  occasion  when  he 
had  met  Kristina  at  the  shop,  and  she  had  let 
him  carry  her  basket  for  her  a  little  way. 

"How  strange  it  all  is  I"  he  thought,    But 


Treacherous  Ground  299 

bad  though  it  was,  still  it  was  he  who  had 
found  her  and  got  her  up,  so  that  she  could  be 
buried  in  Christian  earth. 

Suddenly  he  went  and  drew  back  the  sheet 
that  covered  her,  but  started  back.  The 
warmth  of  the  room  had  melted  the  ice,  and 
she  lay  in  her  wet  chemise,  as  on  the  night 
when  the  landslip  came  while  she  was  still  in 
bed.  She  had  had  a  blow  on  the  temple,  but 
her  face  was  untouched ;  the  scar  on  her  cheek 
was  there,  and  her  flaxen  hair  lay  loose  over 
the  pillow  and  her  shoulders. 

Suddenly  he  called : ' '  Mother !  Come  here ! ' ' 
And  when  she  came  in  from  the  kitchen, 
"Look!"  he  said.  "What's  that?  Look 
there!"  He  pointed  to  the  frozen  eyes,  which 
had  thawed;  and  now  from  beneath  the  lids, 
tear  after  tear  trickled  down,  as  if,  after  being 
dead  for  a  couple  of  weeks,  the  girl  had  sud- 
denly begun  to  weep. 

The  old  woman  folded  her  hands,  her  hus- 
band came  in,  and  they  all  three  stood  and 
gazed  at  the  dead  girl,  who  was  shedding  tears. 

When  the  coffin  was  finished,  Lars  washed, 
and  put  on  his  Sunday  clothes,  and  went  to 
Evje  to  borrow  a  horse;  and  meanwhile  his 
father  and  mother,  at  his  request,  washed  the 
dead  woman  and  put  on  her  one  of  Lars's  clean 


300  Treacherous  Ground 

shirts.  When  he  returned  with  the  horse,  the 
coffin  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  no 
one  lay  on  the  bed.  Lars  had  asked  for  this 
too,  for  he  coulfl  not  bear  to  hear  the  blows  of 
the  hammer  when  the  lid  was  fastened  down. 

As  the  two  men  carried  out  the  coffin  to  put 
it  on  the  sledge,  the  black  horse  turned  its  head 
to  look,  and  its  quivering  nostrils  dilated  as 
it  uttered  a  little  whimpering  sound. 

The  old  womai}  stood  at  the  window  watch- 
ing Lars  as  he  drove  off  at  a  walking-pace, 
sitting  astride  the  coffin.  "Poor  boy!"  she 
said,  wiping  her  eyes.  "It's  hard  for  him 
too." 

Lars  drove  along  in  the  pale  light  of  the 
dying  day  past  house  after  house,  where 
lamps  were  being  lighted.  He  turned  up  the 
valley  and  had  the  grey  fjord  behind  him.  The 
dark  ridges  of  the  hill  stood  out  against  the 
cold,  deep  sky,  and  the  snow  creaked  and 
crunched  beneath  the  sledge.  Lars  had  spread 
a  cloth  over  the  coffin,  and  he  sat  beating  his 
feet  together  on  account  of  the  cold.  He  met 
people  both  walking  and  driving,  but  the  horse 
went  to  one  side  of  his  own  accord.  As  he 
passed  through  the  big  Denstad  Farm,  a  man 
came  out  of  a  storehouse,  and  held  up  a  lan- 
tern so  that  the  yellow  light  fell  upon  the  horse 


Treacherous  Ground  301 

and  its  load.  " What's  that?"  he  asked,  but 
Lars  did  not  answer.  He  passed  the  houses, 
and  entered  a  wood  white  with  snow;  and 
here  the  little  bell  on  the  horse's  chest  rang 
out  clear  and  inelodious,  like  an  old  ballad. 
Presently  a  red  full  moon  peeped  out  above 
the  snow-white  mountain-tops,  reminding  him 
of  the  time  when  he  wandered  about  alone  up 
there  on  the  pale  moors  as  a  goatherd,  and  had 
poured  forth  from  his  horn  all  that  moved 
and  sounded  in  his  brain.  And  almost  un- 
consciously, as  he  sat,  he  put  it  all  together — 
the  recollection  of  the  prettiest  voice  in  the 
church,  the  slender  waist,  a  uniform,  of  which 
nothing  would  ever  come  now,  and  the  girl 
in  the  coffin,  perhaps  still  silently  weeping — 
it  all  seemed  to  grow  together  into  a  long-for- 
gotten wordless  song.  And  at  last  he  raised 
his  head  and  sang  softly,  out  towards  the  red 
rim  of  the  sky  in  the  west,  a  sad  melody : 

"Oh,  doodeli  doo! 
Oh,  doodeli  doo! 
Oh,  doodeli,  doodeli  doo!" 

THE  END 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A    001  270  040    7 


